


be brave enough to say goodbye (life will reward you with a new hello)

by Stars_dreaming (orphan_account)



Series: Immortals [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Avengers Family, Avengers Mansion, Blindness, Blood, Blood Drinking, Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Experimentation, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Half-Vampires, Human Experimentation, Hydra (Marvel), Immortality, Immortals, Implied Relationships, Memories, Multi, Mutant Powers, Mutants, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Brainwashing, Past Torture, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), SHIELD, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Superheroes, Torture, Training, Unethical Experimentation, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Stars_dreaming
Summary: Assassin Winter finds that she gets more than she bargained for when she agrees to join the New Avengers. Like Hydra, for example.Together with her only living family member left, she navigates the paths of life and where they lead her—her only fear is being pulled back by the darkness within her.What will it cost her?





	be brave enough to say goodbye (life will reward you with a new hello)

**Author's Note:**

> I POSTED A WORK UNDER THE SAME NAME, WHICH IS EXACTLY THE SAME TO THIS ONE, BUT IT HAS A DIFFERENT ENDING. THIS ONE DOES NOT HAVE A HAPPY ENDING (READ THE TAGS!!!!) WHEREAS THE OTHER DOES HAVE A HAPPY ENDING
> 
> We'll start with a few warnings: 
> 
> \- attempted suicide and suicidal thoughts  
> \- discussing and descriptions of torture, although I am not good in guessing how detailed I wrote it  
> \- descriptions and discussing of experimentation on children  
> \- blood, as in drinking it (not in a sexual kind of way or anything kinky)  
> \- quite some violence (but again, I am not good in guessing in how much and what is too much)  
> \- vomiting, not on purpose
> 
> There will be a brief relationship with another character, but it's endgame Rhodey/Winter
> 
> Also, something else. This work is unbeta'd. Of course i did my utmost to make sure there were no mistakes, but it's more than 30,000 words long, so it's highly possible i missed something. I would sincerely appreciate it if anyone could point it out if they notice!
> 
> This is not a fix-it. At all. 
> 
> I am also a beginning writer, and I'm not perfect. My writing has mistakes in all sorts of ways and I'm always working on perfecting my style. I find it quite difficult to capture a character's emotion and thoughts--I did my best. I tried, guys.
> 
> Winter is my own character and she is bisexual (though it is hardly mentioned). If this offends you or makes you uncomfortable, you know where the door is. I don't do mean comments or shitty ones. 
> 
> I'm also not good in writing in a person's way of being, like Sam's snark, for example. I'm still working on that and I'm really, really trying. 
> 
> On top of that, English is not my native language, so there will be some mistakes in sentence structure or just sayings in general that I translated from Dutch to English. 
> 
> My apologies for all this in advance.
> 
> My initial plan was to just leave this to rot for a year and then come back later, to rewrite it again and make it perfect this time. 
> 
> I do sincerely hope that this meets your standards and that you like it.

 

* * *

 

 

**DC**

After Thanos, it’s difficult for the world to get back up again. The Decimation ruins governments and countries—it breaks hearts and brings tears.

In the end, Winter thinks, it doesn’t matter.

Names buried under the sand, long-forgotten memories, fading faces—but the world thrives. It blooms.

The people want to forget—they don’t want to remember what it was like before; they want to see it now and they want to live in it now.

Winter’s past lies buried underneath the snow in Estonia. Her name, her family, her life—it all lies there, covered with snow and burnt pieces of wood still left from her home.

She often thinks of it as a previous life—as something that is not truly hers. It was not something she experienced. She doesn’t identify with the person she was before—yet she doesn’t know who she is now.

Helena Põld? Hydra’s Striker? A White Butterfly?

Or maybe… Winter Lovebloom.

She calls herself Winter now, but it is not who she is. Winter is a name without memories—a name without blood and pleads of help and eyes screaming in pain.

There are no walls splashed with blood—no hidden weapons all over her body, no expertise in weaponry, no daggers twisting in her hands.

It’s just her. Just Winter.

Helena was an assassin. Striker belonged to Hydra. White Butterfly belonged to only herself.

Winter…

Winter just needs someone.

 

* * *

 

It takes them five years.

 

* * *

**Paris**

The streets are dark and cold at night. The yellowish streetlights cast shadows on the walls of the surrounding houses, and the rain hits the stone blocks of the streets softly, creating a cadence of soft ticks.

If there is anybody on the streets at this ungodly hour, they don’t notice the dark figure crouching down on a rooftop. They don’t see the mask covering half of this figure’s face, or the hair that falls in wet strands around their face, or the way their eyes flicker in the light of the lanterns—one a soft gold, the other an icy blue.

They are waiting for someone—a target or a friend, maybe. But as the rain keeps falling and making puddles on the street, the figure sits there silently, like a statue.

 

Then a small shadow jumps from a higher rooftop, just behind the other dark figure. The shadow is entirely cloaked, and nothing of their face is visible. Their voice, however, is a clear indication of who they are.

The cloaked figure asks their companion something in a low voice—in a language that nobody can understand.

The figure with the Heterochromic eyes turns around, and the cape wrapped around their shoulders flutters, even though there is not even a slight breeze. The drizzle turns into a real rain as they slowly get up from their spot at the edge of the roof.

“Anything?” The figure asks in a soft voice. The cloaked figure shakes his head. “It’s like they disappeared,” he whispers. The woman with the cape curses under her breath.

“We can’t let them get away,” she continues, and reaches for one of the katanas strapped to her back. “We won’t,” her companion assures her. “I think I know where they are.”

 

Nobody ever finds the facility under the Parisian streets where warm blood paints the walls and screams still ring in the hallways.

 

* * *

 

**Washington DC**

Winter lets her dagger slide back into its sheath and throws the cloth she uses to clean it away. Aryan is on the other side of their hotel room, searching the room for any bugs or hidden devices.

“Clean,” he says when he’s cleared the bedroom. He steps into the bathroom and she hears him move all kind of things around while she unpacks their duffels bags on the beds.

They don’t have a lot of belongings—everything they had from before had been burned by their own handlers and everything they collected when they broke free was only a few pieces of clothing, sanitary products, her medallion, a few photographs and an old hairpin that Winter miraculously rescued from the fire that destroyed their home.

“Bathroom is clean too.”

Aryan steps out of the bathroom and she looks up from their belongings.

He offers her a hesitant smile and then starts pulling the leather suit off his skin. Winter looks down at the three duffel bags again. One bag for personal belongings, and the two others are filled with weapons.

A few handguns: pistols, revolvers and service pistols; two shotguns; three katanas in sheaths that belong to her; two short swords; parrying daggers and Sgian[-dubh](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sgian-dubh)’s; kalis’s and khanjali’s; a V-42 Stiletto that she got from a Canadian soldier once; two sets of throwing knives; a whole set of shuriken’s that she usually carries close to her; two quarterstaffs; a dao and a machete—it’s enough to start a war.

“We need to get most of those weapons out if we want to make it to Tokyo tomorrow.”

“Do we need to fly commercial?”

“If we don’t, we risk being suspicious, Aryan. You know as well as I do that if anyone knows we’re still alive, we might as well be dead.”

She sits down on the bed and he does too. They look at each other and it’s not the first time she notices the stark differences between the two of them. She, with her long white locks and two different eyes, and he, with his dark brown hair and honey brown eyes—they are like the dark and the light, even though they both don’t belong to either. In their world, there is no such thing anymore; no more good and bad.

Maybe if there was, they’d probably still be in the bad category. Who are they but mindless killers? Assassins? People looking for revenge?

They don’t speak for a long time as they sort out their weapons—which ones to take and which ones to leave behind.

Winter would never willingly part with her katanas or her staffs, but her throwing knives and stars are parts of her that she just c _an’t_ leave behind.

 

* * *

 

They fall asleep after dinner, each on a bed, with the curtains still open and the rain ticking against the windows.

Winter is a light sleeper, but her mind is always a bit foggy and dazed when she wakes up, so when one of the burner phones she brought rings, she jumps up in bed before she remembers she’s in a hotel, and not back in the lab.

With a shaking hand, she reaches for the burner phone and takes the call.

She doesn’t say a word—knows that if someone calls them on this phone, it must be important. (It’s been only two months after everyone who was Decimated returned on the streets again, and all their missions have doubled)

“I need your help,” a deep voice says on the other end of the phone, in Russian.

“What for?” She asks, immediately falling back into the old language that still slides easily off her tongue.

“I’ll text the address.” Then he hangs up and leaves her staring at the phone, still in a daze.

“What happened?” Aryan whispers from the other bed. “I… the Ghost called. You remember him, right?”

Aryan pushes himself up on the bed and looks at her all bleary eyed. “Yeah.” He sounds a bit unsure.

Winter sighs deeply. “He needs our help.” She flops down on the mattress again and stares at the ceiling.

“Well, then we’ll help him. Come on, let’s go.”

Aryan is already up before she can comment, but she stops him, nonetheless. “We don’t owe him anything, Aryan,” she says slowly. He looks at her with those big doe-like eyes, and she lets him go. “Maybe not. But he’s still someone who deserves help.”

“And what if he is in contact with his handlers again? The roots go deep, Aryan, and they will never truly cease to exist. We can’t be sure about this—what if they try to get to us again?”

“Then we’ll fight like hell,” he answers seriously. “And besides, it’s not like he’s going to turn us in to them or something. You know he would never do something like that. Ever since he’s been out… he’s different.”

Winter knows it’s futile to argue with her little brother—she loves him too much to say no to him. And she also knows that he’s right. Besides, what damage can it do to see an old friend?

 

* * *

 

**New York**

When the quinjet lands on the ground in front of them, the grass is blown to one side. Behind them, the city glistens in the sunlight and Winter can hear the bustling sounds of its life.

The roaring motors fall to an eerie silence, and then the quinjet opens to reveal a very familiar figure.

Winter sees his metal arm—it’s different than before, but it suits him—and his face, which is no longer covered by a mask.

He’s not carrying any visible weapons, but she knows him well and so she’s a hundred percent sure he at least has a set of knives with him. Not that she can blame him, because she’s practically loaded herself with her own weapons.

Well, he said he needed help.

 

“Soldat,” she says, inclining her head as he steps out in the sunlight. He nods at her, and it’s the first time she sees him genuinely smile in a long time.

“It’s been a long time,” he answers, this time in English.

She nods in answer and waits for him to talk. They don’t waste time on formalities—it’s no use asking how things are because the answer is always the same and neither will it matter if she asks him to tell because if he wants to, he’ll tell her anyways.

Then she notices several more people in the jet, and she tenses. Who did he bring with him? Why did he bring more people with him?

She looks at him and notices the dark circles under his eyes—the exhaustion on his face.

“We saw them come back,” Aryan says softly. The Soldier nods.

“We need your help,” he says then. Winter looks at Aryan, who has a clear look of admiration in his eyes and it’s the first time she curses herself for not seeing this coming.

“With the Avengers Initiative.”

 

“We are _not_ becoming Avengers.”

“They need us, Winter. You heard him say it himself. This is a chance—"

“Have you forgotten who we are?” She hisses, leaning closer to him. Her eyes are spitting fire now, and yet he still doesn’t cower. He used to—he used to be this small kid that just needed a big sister to protect him—to _kill_ for him. But those times are over now.

“We slit people’s throats at night, Aryan. We kill others on the street. We leave walls painted with blood because of our thirst for revenge and you are telling me that you want to join a group of superheroes who stand against everything that we are?”

He straightens his back and looks at her, expression defiant. “I’m saying we get a second chance. To help. To save, to—”

“We don’t belong with people like the Avengers—”

“Maybe we don’t,” Aryan interrupts her, “but why can’t we try? Why can’t we try and see where it goes? They are offering us a second chance, Winter, a second chance we thought we were never going to get. We’re done. We can leave our past behind us and just… just forget.”

 _I don’t want to forget,_ she doesn’t say. Her eyes are brimming with tears and so she turns away from the jet and hides her face in her hands.

Aryan’s hand finds her shoulder and squeezes.

“I can’t do this without you,” he whispers.

“We can do this together. We can become better people—”

“Do you think I regret what I have done?” She turns back to him now, and her expression is pained, but also angry.

“You don’t sleep a lot,” he answers. “You have nightmares of their blood on the walls and I know it.”

She sighs. “We can’t trust them— I can’t trust them.”

"So maybe it's time to trust again," Aryan says. He puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes.

 

"I'm ready to live again, Winter. I want-  _want_ to breathe in the air and laugh with someone and be friends with someone. Most of these people have done wrong things and they've made mistakes. They know what it's like to be like us—” Winter huffs, disbelieving, "and they know what it's like to be lost.

"The only thing that grounded us for years was our revenge. And now we're here, and we should have been dead already and what Hydra did to us was not gifting us with something beautiful, but maybe we could learn to accept what we have. They are offering us an opportunity. A chance for a new life."

A corner of her mouth quirks up.

“I would do anything for you,” she says. He nods. “I know. So, do this for me.”

“You’re asking a lot of me.”

Aryan smiles. “But I know you can do it. You’re the strongest person I have ever met.”

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

Winter and Aryan are their last recruits.

They arrive via quinjet that same day, on a platform in front of the Avengers Mansion, a new facility for the Avengers financed by Pepper Potts-Stark.

Aryan hops out immediately, big smile on his face, while Winter follows a bit more cautiously, taking in their surroundings.

In front of them stands a huge, Victorian age mansion, with light brown stones and dozens of windows. When she turns around, she comes face to face with fields that seem to go on for a few miles until they reach an iron gate.

On those fields are a few more landing platforms with quinjets on them and hangars.

“Those hangars are for storage of all our vehicles,” a voice behind them explains. Winter turns around and comes face to face with the agent that the Soldier had introduced as Maria Hill.

“The Mansion belonged to the Stark family once,” Hill explains as she leads them over the path towards the Mansion. “Before he died, in the five years between the Decimation and the return of all the dusted people, Tony tore it all down and helped his wife create a design for a replica right here. He wanted to make it some sort of intelligence centre, and his wife decided to honour his memory and make it our home base.

“It’s not the only Avengers facility we have right now. The Compound was destroyed by Thanos, and the Tower is no longer ours, but there is a secret underground facility in France, and Pepper is financing the build of another Compound in Los Angeles.”

Winter raises an eyebrow and follows the dark-haired woman as she keeps talking.

“The security system is perfect—created by Tony himself and perfected by two other scientists, Helen Cho and Bruce Banner. It runs on facial recognition, voice recognition, and fingerprints.”

The front doors look like they are made of thick wood and have a dark brown colour. Hill taps a stone next to the right door with the official Avengers logo on it. It moves and reveals a digital screen where the agent puts her hand on.

She says her name and holds her face in front of a scanner before there is a slight crack and the doors open.

They reveal a huge white hall, with a massive staircase leading up to the second and third floor of the building.

The floor is made of light grey marble stones and creates a nice contrast with the light brown walls.

From the ceiling hangs an impressive chandelier, lit with dozens of candles. The second floor has a gallery that overlooks the hall and gives the place an even more medieval look.

“Welcome to the Avengers Mansion,” Hill announces, sounding proud.

“It’s too big to give you an entire tour, but I’ll cover the basics for you. On the third and upper floor you’ll find the recreative rooms, such as the cinema and the library. On the second floor you’ll find all our bedrooms, the lounge rooms and the kitchen, and on this floor, you can find the debriefing room, the training rooms, the weaponry rooms and a room with all of our suits.”

She leads them across the hall, underneath the stairs, where they spot one elevator.

“Hop in,” she says with a light smile. Winter and Aryan step inside of it carefully. Hill places her hand on another digital screen, and then a soft female voice pops up from the ceiling.

_“Welcome, Agent Hill.”_

Hill chuckles. “This is Friday, Tony’s last installed Artificial Intelligence. She runs the Mansion and is indestructible. Friday, take us down, please.”

_“Right away, Agent Hill.”_

 

When they step out of the elevator, they stand in a hallway.

“Here in the basement are the most important rooms. The workshop, medical bay, storage rooms and extra bedrooms in case we need to hide down here.”

She takes them into a bright white room, where a hulky green figure stands bent over a glass table next to a slim woman with black hair.

“Bruce!” Hill calls out, and the green figure turns around with a big smile.

“Maria!” He calls back. Then his eyes land on Winter and Aryan.

“Bruce, these are the Wonder Siblings, Winter and Aryan. Winter and Aryan, this is Dr. Bruce Banner, the Avengers’ main scientist.”

After their short introduction, Hill takes them on a stroll through the lab.

Winter is glad it doesn’t look anything like Hydra’s, and she stops in her tracks when she notices three robots playing somewhere to the side.

Hill offers her a smile—there is a lot of grief behind it.

“Those are Tony’s own robots. U, Dum-E and Butterfingers. They were… they were like his kids.”

She swallows and Winter quickly looks away from Aryan as he tries to catch her eye. The Avengers lost a lot too, during their battle against Thanos. A lot of people seem to forget about that.

 

Afterwards, she takes them upstairs and outside, into the backyard.

The backyard also stretches out forever and gives everyone a lovely view of the mountain range and the lake behind them.

“This propriety belongs entirely to the Avengers now—you can use anything here. We have a pool and a lake house, as you can see, and we have a shooting range where you can shoot targets outside. I hope you like it.”

Hill turns to them and Winter turns to Aryan—for her, he’s the deciding voice.

He smiles. “It looks amazing,” he says. Winter wants to roll her eyes, but she made a promise she’d be nice, so she figures she can’t do that.

Hill takes them back inside and upstairs, where some of the others are waiting.

 

The first thing Winter notices is that they have a perfect group dynamic—she can see it in their stance and how they arranged themselves in the lounge room.

The older and stronger ones form half a circle around the younger, more inexperienced ones—they stand casual and relaxed, but Winter does notice that a few of them carry guns.

The young ones in the middle are like her and Aryan—five new recruits for the Avengers. Two girls—one with long blonde curls and one with red hair in a pixie cut, and three boys. One of them has olive-coloured skin and bright green eyes, the other two are both tall and have short brown hair.

The older ones are easier to recognize—Winter’s done her research.

The first one is the Soldier—James Barnes—with a darker man next to him that she knows is the Falcon. Next to them stands a blonde woman dressed in the same attire as Hill, so presumably a SHIELD agent. Next to her stands a boy with short brown hair and brown eyes that seem to hold a lot of secrets. His face looks young, but how he stands and looks at her—Winter knows that he’s a bit like Aryan, that he had to grow up because he couldn’t be a child anymore after everything that happened.

The last woman has long auburn hair and is dressed in scarlet—so that must be the Scarlet Witch. Next to her stands a taller, dark man, whose face she doesn’t really know because so many of the Avengers hide behind a mask or a faceplate.

She notices this all in a matter of fifteen seconds.

“Winter, Aryan, these are the Avengers,” Hill speaks up from behind them.

“Sam Wilson,” the Falcon says with a light smile. “Sharon Carter,” the blonde woman says. Her voice is nice and soft, and it makes Winter feel just a bit more comfortable.

The boy with the brown hair introduces himself as Peter Parker in a small voice. Scarlet Witch is Wanda Maximoff, and the darker man is James Rhodes, even though everyone calls him Rhodey.

They are all incredibly different—like she and Aryan are. But there is one thing they do have in common. They have this haunted look in their eyes—like they saw too much of this world, too much horrors and too much pain. She knows this look because she and Aryan carry it too.

The girl with the red hair introduces herself as Macy Bordeaux, and the other girl with the blonde curls is Constance Coulson. The boy with the green eyes is Levi Maxwell, and he seems to be the flirtatious and spontaneous type, while the other two boys seem a bit quieter and reserved and introduce themselves as Harley Keener and Oliver Jackson.

Winter feels her heart clench when she notices the incredible amount of grief and sadness behind their eyes.

They lost a lot. Maybe even too much.

 

* * *

 

She jolts awake that night, eyes wide and frantic. The room she’s in is dark, dark as night, and it makes her remember flashes of light and soft voices and the coldness of metal against her bare back and—

 _You’re safe,_ she tells herself. _You’re okay now._

She doesn’t try to sleep and slips out of the bed and shuffles to the lounge room.

 

The lounge room bathes in the silver light of the moon, and Winter flops down on the sofa and looks out the window, at the forest and the mountains outside.

_What would it be like to be a normal person?_

She often wonders about it, how her life would be if she had never been caught. Or how it would have been if she hadn’t been a mutant.

Even though she knows it’s futile to think about it and wish for it—wish for a normal life where she didn’t take revenge on too many people—she still does.

She would have been dead by now if she had been normal.

 

A sound next to her makes her aware of her surroundings again. She knows who it is immediately—there is only one person who knows her this well. Her fingers reach up to her collarbones—they stroke the marks on her skin, and she shivers.

“I’m glad you came,” the Soldier says. She doesn’t look at him and keeps her eyes on her hands.

He hands her a cup. She looks at it for a while, examines the dark liquid in it and sniffs.

It smells like blood—she knows if she were a normal person it would make her horrified, but now it’s the only thing that keeps her alive so she can’t be horrified by it.

She puts the cup against her lips and tips her head backwards as the fluid slides in her mouth and reliefs her from her aching throat.

“Do they know?”

“Some of them. But they don’t know everything—it’s your choice to tell them.”

“I should know the answer to that,” Winter sighs. “I should know if I should tell them or not. Old people are wise, right?”

She gives him a look and he chuckles. “You’re the oldest one here, so you decide.”

Winter sighs again. “Do the files tell you anything?”

“Files?”

She snorts. “Come on. You have two of the world’s best assassins in your home. Of course you have files on us.”

He gives her a smile that doesn’t reveal much, but she can see in his eyes that what she said is spot-on.

“Friday show us the files on the new recruits, please,” he then says, tilting his head toward the ceiling.

 _“Right away,”_ the AI responds.

In front of them appears a holographic screen, with seven squares in it. The Soldier—or James Barnes, as she should probably start calling him now—taps on one of them.

 **AVENGERS INITIATIVE,** she reads. And under that, **Winter Lovebloom**.

“So,” she scans the file in front of her, “not my real name, then.”

“They know you’ve been with Hydra since 1918.”

“Not voluntarily,” she mumbles, but he continues. “Your first official mission report came out in 1935, but they also know that wasn’t your first mission. They know about your mutant nature and about the experiments and—” “That’s enough,” she says sharply. “I don’t… I don’t want to know what they know about me.”

“Is it going to be a danger?”

“Only if you’re emotionally compromised.”

“If I’m emotionally compromised—” she huffs. “I’ve always been emotionally compromised, and I always will be. But so are you and so are many others on this team even though they don’t like to say it.”

“I’m not saying that it’s wrong. It would be hypocritical to send you away because you have ties to Hydra. I have ties to Hydra and so does Wanda.”

“At least you redeemed yourself,” Winter points out. “I spent the time I was free killing all kinds of people.”

“But never innocents.”

A beat of silence.

“Do you think we can make up for the red in our ledger?”

“I’m not sure,” he answers with a shrug. “I’m trying.”

She looks at him now, and in her eyes are shimmering unshed tears. “I don’t think I can.”

 

* * *

 

There is a notebook in her drawer. It belongs to her and no one else, and yet, she hands it to James only a week after their late-night conversation.

They’re all in the kitchen and Winter understands that she’s baring herself right now—she’s showing them all a piece of herself, and she feels like she should. Like it’s okay.

He looks at the black cover with the red skull on it, examines the notebook and turns it around in his hands. It’s old and the pages are already crumpled and yellow, but it’s still hers and it still belongs to her life. (Rather, _her_ life belongs to it)

“Open it,” she whispers. He looks at her for extra reassurance, and she nods.

He carefully opens the notebook and scans the first page.

She knows what it says already. It’s written in code, one that only she and him can read.

He stays silent as he flips the page and reads another. And then another. And another.

“Why are you giving this to me?” He asks her then, tone soft. His eyes are so different from what she knows—in her memories, they were always ice cold and strong, but now, _now_ they are soft and open and pliant. Full of love and good memories and she understands that he doesn’t remember all, but he remembers most and that’s okay.

 _Because I trust you,_ she doesn’t say. “Because you need to know how to stop me if it goes wrong.”

“They won’t—”

She shuts him up with a look, and he nods. He folds the notebook close again. “I’ll keep it safe,” he says softly. She gives him a tight smile, and then turns around and walks away.

 

“What was that about?” Sam asks curiously as soon as Winter’s left the kitchen. Bucky looks at the notebook in his hands and he remembers his own red one, with the black star.

 _Her trigger words._ _Her demise._

“Something to help us forget,” he says instead. He turns around on his heel and walks away too, because he needs to have some quiet right now.

 

Sam finds him in their bedroom. Bucky is still looking at the notebook, but he hasn’t opened it.

“Want to tell me the truth?” His boyfriend asks, settling on the mattress next to him. Bucky doesn’t look at him and swallows.

 _Белая бабочка. Агент Гидры. ударник_. She has many names—and yet there is only one that truly matters.

“Winter is immortal,” he croaks. Sam doesn’t make a sound.

“She is just like me—she just needs something else than food to stay alive.”

“Human blood?”

Bucky huffs. “Animal. She says she’s taken too many lives on her own and she doesn’t want to add to her list.”

“And what about all the people she killed?”

“All Hydra,” Bucky replies. Now he looks up. “Sam… this notebook contains the same thing my own did.”

Sam’s expression turns horrified. “Trigger words?”

“Not really. Hydra made her an unstoppable killing machine and with every mission she left innocent bodies in her wake. They couldn’t control her and so they created something akin to trigger words for her. But if someone says them, she’ll stop.”

“You should keep it, then.”

 _And she’ll die,_ Bucky doesn’t add. He understands what Winter is doing—but it reminds him too much of Natasha.

Sacrificing their lives for the greater good. And Winter didn’t even know what hers was.

 

* * *

 

The Avengers are kind. They’re a tight-knit family, but they seem to have enough room for their two newest members.

Winter finds she kind of likes the company and the chatter in the hallways.

She likes that they ask for her help sometimes, and that she can spar with someone other than Aryan.

They don’t mention the blood in the fridge, and they don’t judge her when there are days that she doesn’t talk.

They leave her be, as if they understand how she feels, and instead of feeling angry, she feels okay.

 

But there are still these thoughts in her head, convincing her that it’s all a trap.

She is a danger, after all. She’s a mindless killer—someone who left too much bodies in her wake to be salvageable.

And these are superheroes—people who save lives and protect others. She’s used to blood and screams, and they don’t kill at all.

She wonders if she’ll ever fit in. Aryan seems to have found his place amongst them, but she knows better than that and she’s too old to be able to trust them without asking questions.

 

* * *

 

One night, she decides to step into the kitchen to drink some water to at least make her body feel like the void inside her is filling up.

What she doesn’t expect is a figure sitting on the counter of the kitchen island, hunched forward.

For a moment, she considers turning around and walking away—letting this person be.

But then she remembers that she’s a part of this now—this team is her family now, and she needs to let them in—to _trust_ them.

So she walks towards the figure and stops in front of them.

She doesn’t say a word and waits until he lifts his head and looks at her. It’s Rhodes—or Rhodey, actually.

The moon is reflected in his eyes— _they’re pretty,_ she thinks.

He has dark circles under his eyes, and he looks ragged and torn apart. It’s probably because of his loss. She’s not entirely sure, but she thinks Tony Stark was his best friend. It must be hard losing someone like that in such a way.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks her. She gives him a sad smile. “Nightmares.”

“I never hear you.”

“No one does. Are you alright?”

“I guess,” he mumbles, looking at his hands. She raises an eyebrow—she doesn’t believe him at all. But she does understand that it’s difficult to talk about, especially to someone who you think hasn’t experienced such a loss.

“It might sound weird,” she says softly. “But I understand a bit of what you’re going through. So, I’m here if you ever want to talk. Or just… not talk. If you just need someone to sit with you in silence.”

She smiles at him—a real, genuine smile, filled with warmth. When he smiles back, her heart leaps in joy.

“I just…” he croaks. “I just feel like I don’t get to do this—like he doesn’t need this. He needs me to step up and fight for him. Fight for the world, for what he left behind in our hands.”

A beat of silence.

“Did you know about my fall? The one that broke my spine?”

“I read about it,” she answers truthfully.

He gives her a pained smile. “Tony designed leg braces for me. And after, it appeared that he had designed something else for me.” He taps on his legs. “To support my spine. They operated me after the battle and now I can walk again. And it’s… it’s because of him. And it just feels so wrong to sit here and cry and think about him while the world out there is collapsing under the weight of everything that happened.”

His voice falters and he stops talking.

“You have a right to sit and be sad,” Winter then says. “All the Avengers have that right. You get to mourn and cry. You don’t have to jump up at every single notion and get angry at yourself because you’re mourning. You’re just human.”

She puts her hand on his leg—it’s an impulsive decision and she immediately wants to pull her hand back, but he puts his own hands over hers so she lets it stay and ignores the warm sensation that travels up her arm from where he’s touching her.

They stay like that for a while until he moves. She drops her hand and steps backwards as he jumps off the counter.

“Thank you,” he says. She only nods, and then he turns and walks out.

 

* * *

 

She dreams of a face.

A wicked grin and bloodshot eyes and a voice that says, “It’s okay, little butterfly.”

It still makes her shiver, and she steps back from the face, but then she finds herself on that table that brings back distant memories that she doesn’t want to remember.

They strap her down again, and it feels so normal that she doesn’t even struggle—she just lays there.

“Now, now,” the familiar voice says in her ear. His cold fingers trail over her body and she squirms under his touch.

“Don’t be scared, little butterfly.” He chuckles darkly. “You’ll be okay.”

Everything turns black then, and she feels more hands on her body. Her clothes are ripped open and something sharp presses against her chest.

When it slices into her skin, she starts screaming. She struggles against the bonds, but they are pulled tighter and tighter and she _can’t breathe_ —

She wakes up screaming.

Her room is dark and silent, and the only sounds she hears are her erratic breaths and the sobs that wreck through her body.

Then the door slams open and reveals a familiar face. Behind him stand the others, all with concerned looks on their faces. She spots Aryan and James too, but they stay behind as Rhodey makes his way over to her.

He sits down on the bedside and takes her hand. She keeps her eyes locked on the wall in front of her, still breathing a bit too quickly. There are already black spots dancing in her view and her chest hurts.

“I’m here,” she hears Rhodey’s warm voice. “I’m here. Hey, Winter, I’m here. Look at me.”

He takes her head with his hands and turns it towards him. His eyes pierce through hers—they seem to know the right way to her soul. “Breathe with me,” he whispers. “In.” She breathes in shakily. “And out.” She lets her breath out again and tries to copy his calm breathing.

 

She doesn’t notice that the others are gone already until her breathing is calm again, and the tears have dried.

She swallows and pulls the sheets up around her. Why did she fall asleep?

 _Vulnerability_ , she hears herself say. _Show no vulnerability._

It stays silent as Rhodey pulls away. He squeezes her hand and then lets her go.

“Try to sleep,” he whispers, and then she’s alone again. She calls out for him at the last second, but only softly, and he doesn’t turn around like she wants him to.

She rubs over the spots where her marks are—just a reminder of the normal life she will never lead.

She tugs her blouse down to touch her bare skin. The contact of her fingers with her soulmark make her shiver, and she sighs.

Two eagle wings, each under one collarbone. And she will never find out who they belong to.

Maybe if she were a normal person… If she hadn’t killed so many and if—

She shakes the thoughts away. _Come on Winter. Go back to sleep._

 

* * *

 

**Siberia**

“It’s just in and out,” James says. “As far as we know, there are no Hydra agents here. We just need to check the facility to ensure there is nobody left, and then we burn it. Got it?”

Everyone nods. Winter touches the gun strapped to her thigh and tries to ignore how naked she feels without her katanas strapped to her back.

Next to her, Aryan takes her hand. “We’ll be okay,” he whispers.

She doesn’t acknowledge that she’s heard him, and keeps her eyes trained forwards, ignoring all the others in the quinjet. Her other hand touches the comm in her ear, and she taps it.

“Everybody ready?” James asks, and she can hear him loud and clear.

The quinjet starts descending slowly, and then there is a soft sound, indicating that it’s on the ground.

“Sharon and Maria, you two get out first,” James commands. The two women nod and pull out their guns.

With guns raised, they step out of the quinjet. They disappear into the dark of the night and leave everyone in silence.

A beat of silence.

“All clear,” Hill’s voice sounds in Winters ear. She pretends she doesn’t hear the sigh of relief Coulson lets out.

“Good,” James says, and then he turns to Winter. “Rhodey, Sam and Harley, I want you three in the air. Good luck.”

The men in the iron armour step out of the jet and go up, while Sam swoops in behind them, his wings carrying him into the sky.

They’re down two, since Peter is still in New York and Oliver sprained his wrist during training.

“Constance and Levi, I want you two to check out the outsides of the facility with Maria and Sharon.” The two nod and disappear, leaving Winter, Bordeaux, Aryan and James behind in the jet.

James looks at them.

“We’re going to wait until they’re all back. Then we can get inside.”

Winter keeps her eyes on the floor now and feels how Aryan’s hand slips out of her own.

 

“Everything is clear,” Rhodey says. Wilson and Keener follow with the same statement.

“We’re all good here too,” Constance heaves. “We caught two guards but tied them up. They’re unconscious,” Levi explains.

“Good,” James says. “Then we can go in. Winter, you can come up front with me.”

She nods and jumps out of the jet after in. She faintly hears Aryan flying next to her, and then he sits on her shoulder.

 

The facility is like a small bunker above ground and seems completely abandoned. Winter knows better than that, though. Hydra is good in hiding.

Rhodey blasts the door to the bunker open, and Winter steps into the darkness first, gun up.

It’s cold inside, and it feels empty. The darkness seems to go on for forever, but she does notice a tiny yellow spot at the end of the hallway to her right.

James comes in behind her and presses his back against hers. “I can’t see anything,” she mumbles. “But there’s a light at the end of this hallway.” She gestures to the hallway on her right.

“Are we going to do lights or not?” Wilson asks.

James looks at Winter. “If we want to clear it without them knowing it, we already fucked that up,” she comments dryly. Aryan wheezes.

“Okay, okay,” Wilson says, but she can hear the smile in his voice. “Harley, light, please.”

The two men in armour seem to have built-in lights, that are weak enough not to warn anyone on the other side that the Avengers are there.

“We’ll have to split up,” James says. “Harley, Aryan, Constance, Levi and Maria, you’re with me. The rest is with Winter. Winter will be in charge.”

Winter lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t protest.

They part, and she leads them through the dark corridor.

 

The yellow spot of light becomes bigger, and she can pick up the faintest sound of footsteps. She raises her hand in a fist, and the light goes out.

“What now?” Wilson hisses. “I’m going to check it out,” Winter hisses back.

“What? You can’t just—” “I can, and I will. I’m a lot quieter than you are. I won’t get myself killed.”

Wilson makes a noise, but doesn’t protest furthermore, and lets her sneak on.

She rounds the corner and comes eye to eye with a dimly lit hallway.

There are a few doors on either wall, but no guards standing outside. She can hear voices come from behind those walls, but the walls are too thick to understand what they are saying.

She sniffs and smells a sweet smell that shouldn’t be there. She frowns.

“What’s going on?” Wilson asks.

She retreats into the shadows. “Four doors,” she whispers. “If I’m right, they all have Hydra agents behind them. I can hear them talking, but I can’t hear exactly what they’re saying.”

“Okay. Should we split up?”

She looks at the four doors.

“Yeah. You take Maxi- Wanda,” she corrects herself immediately, “and Sharon can take Macy. Rhodey can take one, and I’ll take the other.”

“And that’s a good idea?” Sharon asks. Winter rolls her eyes. “It’s the only one we have right now. I’m a good fighter, trust me. And if I need anything, I’ll call.”

“Alright,” Sharon gives in. “Okay,” Wilson— _Sam, his name is Sam, Winter—_ grunts. He seems to tell the others her idea.

“Sam, you take the right door to the end. Sharon, you take the left door to the end. Rhodey, you take the other left door, and I’ll take the other right door. Got that?”

“Roger that.” “We got it.” “Got it.”

 

The doors are open, which is not a big surprise. Winter looks at Rhodey, who’s already opened his and is looking inside the room.

“On the count of three,” she whispers, pressing her index finger to the comm.

“One… two… three!”

She slams the door open and barges in the room—which turns out to be a laboratory.

Three Hydra scientists are staring at her, baffled, while the two agents with them have already come up.

Winter takes quick care of them—they end up groaning on the floor. The three scientists are just standing there.

“Don’t shoot,” one of them says. “We could give you—” “I’m not interested in those talks,” Winter growls. Now the other scientists seem to recognize her.

“That is the Белая бабочка,” one of them whispers, horrified. Winter smirks. “Get on the floor,” she says. “Put your hands on your head where I can see them.”

As she keeps on talking, a voice inside her head seems to be screaming for justice.

 _Kill them! Kill them, they don’t deserve your mercy,_ it screeches. She shakes it off and ties the men up.

Someone knocks on the door and she looks up. Rhodey is standing there. His faceplate is off and he’s smiling at her. “The others are ready. Want me to take your prisoners outside too?”

“Yeah, thanks. Any word from James?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll try to catch up with him, then.”

Meanwhile, Rhodey’s caught the three prisoners as she yanks the two agents out of the room.

Sharon takes one of the scientists for herself, and Sam takes one of Winter’s men.

They make their way back outside, where Wanda and Macy are standing.

“Guard them,” Winter says, gesturing to the line of unconscious and tied up Hydra agents.

“I’ll come with you,” says Rhodey quickly. She looks at him and then nods.

 

“I’m glad I didn’t come with Bucky,” Rhodey mumbles as he keeps the light up. Winter forces herself not to look at the bloodied and scratched walls.

“Winter?” A soft voice speaks up. It’s Constance.

“Yeah?” Winter asks. “We found something, but we’re not sure if we should open it.” The young SHIELD agent leads them through three small hallways, and they end up in a small room, where the other five are still standing.

James is examining a large round plate in the floor. A sweet smell fills Winter’s nostrils, and she can guess what it is. It’s a bit of a sickly, fruity smell, and she’s smelled it enough to know where it’s coming from. As she approaches James, the smell becomes stronger.

In full disgust she looks at the plate.

James looks up, and from the look in his eyes, she understands that he knows too.

“We need to decide who’s going in,” he says softly.

“I’ll go,” Winter says with a shrug. _My nightmares can’t get worse anyways,_ she doesn’t add.

James regards her with concern in his eyes. “You sure?”

She nods. “I’m sure. I can go in alone—” “I’ll come with her,” Rhodey then says. Winter shoots him a look but doesn’t protest.

“I’m coming too,” Aryan immediately says, but Winter’s glare at him makes him stop in his tracks.

“I could come,” Harley says. Winter shakes her head.

“James, he is just a child. Let them stay here. They won’t be able to handle it.”

“Handle what?” Harley asks. “Nothing,” Winter immediately snaps. He steps backwards and she sighs. “Sorry. Just… let’s go in.”

 

They climb down the shaft until they end up in a small hallway. The smell of rotting bodies is unmistakeably there, and Rhodey gags. Winter unwinds the piece of cloth she always carries with her. She wraps it around her mouth and nose, and when she looks behind her, Rhodey’s put up his faceplate.

“What is this?” He asks.

“Rotting bodies,” she answers casually. “I figured Hydra wouldn’t let their corpses behind, but apparently I was wrong.”

Rhodey blasts the lock off the door, and Winter carefully opens it.

A wave of nausea hits her as the smell intensifies and the room lights up.

As far as she can see, are rows and rows of decaying bodies.

“Oh god,” she whispers. Her eyes skim the faces, seeing who they are. Are they innocents? Experiments? Or unfaithful agents?

“Winter,” Rhodey says, and he sounds pained. “I’ll check it out,” she says, and she’s surprised by how steady her voice is, because her hands are trembling.

 

She makes it to the back of the room, where she stops in her tracks to look at a smaller door in the wall. It doesn’t seem to be locked.

Behind her, she can hear Rhodey’s footsteps.

She quickly opens the door—completely unprepared for the sight in front of her.

She stumbles and falls to her knees, leaning against the door frame, and clamps a hand over her covered mouth.

Piles of children. Small bodies, bloody and bruised, with popped veins and infected wounds.

 

“What is _this?”_ She hears Rhodey ask. He sounds utterly horrified.

“Their experiments gone wrong,” she explains bitterly, because she’s recognized it all immediately.

She taps her earpiece.

“You alright down there?” James’ voice comes through.

“We’re okay,” Rhodey answers, already pulling Winter up. She can’t seem to move, and her eyes are rooted to the room with the children. There are tears welling up in her eyes, but she doesn’t want to cry.

“Okay. You coming up?”

“We are.”

 

When they emerge from the shaft, James pulls her up. Winter steadies herself on her legs and roughly wipes away her tears. Aryan catches her eye and his expression turns horrified.

“They wouldn’t,” he whispers.

She stiffens. “What wouldn’t they?” Levi asks. Winter shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says. “Nothing. I need… I need fresh air.”

 

She stumbles outside, and her eyes immediately fall onto the line of Hydra people.

She spots the three scientists talking amongst each other, and then she sees red.

“Fucking bastards,” she mumbles, and she grabs her gun. Before she can move however, two strong arms wrap themselves around her.

“Let me go,” she hisses. “No. You’re not going to shoot them.” It’s Rhodey, and she faintly wonders when he stepped out of his suit.

“They deserve it,” she says through clenched teeth. She turns around and stares in his eyes as new tears start coming. “They… children…” she wipes away her tears and drops the gun.

“They’ll get what’s coming to them,” Rhodey says softly, wiping away another tear, surprisingly tender.

She sniffs. “Come here,” he whispers, which is strange to say since she’s already standing in his arms. He wraps his arms tighter around her and she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

_After all this time I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed._

_I failed._

* * *

 

 

**Avengers Mansion**

“What’s up with her?” Sam asks Bucky softly. They are both looking at Winter, who’s sitting by the window in the lounge room, looking outside.

She’s pale and has dark circles under her eyes—Bucky knows she hasn’t slept in three days. She looks exhausted, but she doesn’t want to sleep. She just refuses to get up from her spot.

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Ever since… ever since that mission in Siberia she’s been like this.”

“Rhodey told me what they saw,” Sam whispers. Bucky looks at him, but Sam shakes his head. “Rhodey is horrified, and he’s seen a lot of shit in the war. You know Winter best, Bucky. What do we do?”

“I’ve only seen her like this once before, and then she went on a murder spree. Hydra… they programmed her so that that would be the only thing she could use to cope with it. I don’t know what to do. If we let her kill a few Hydra agents, it’s not going to make any of it better.”

“Well, the Hydra scientists are not talking. Fury’s tried everything, but they won’t talk. Maybe we can bring her to HQ.”

“And what?” Bucky turns to Sam. “Let her torture them? Let her kill them? We’re not murderers, Sam. We’re Avengers.”

“She can avenge those children,” Sam continues calmly. Bucky lifts an eyebrow. “No, she can’t. I won’t let her do that. It ruins your mind.”

“You have that book she gave you. That notebook.”

“That’s for emergencies,” Bucky replies flatly.

“Well, I think we have to let her talk to them. They’re obviously scared of her.”

Bucky sighs. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

 

* * *

 

**SHIELD HQ**

“I’m Director Fury,” the dark man introduces himself. Winter regards him with disinterest.

“This is Winter,” Maria says. “She wants to talk to the captives.”

Fury raises an eyebrow. “You sure she’s up for that?”

“I’m up for it,” Winter says flatly, voice devoid of any emotion. “What do you want to know?”

 

“Be careful,” Maria says before she lets Winter into the cell.

The Hydra scientist looks up with disdain, but his expression turns scared when he sees Winter.

She stays silent and sits down in front of him. He shifts on his seat and avoids looking her in the eye.

They stay like that a good ten minutes, while behind the glass, Fury leans backwards. “Is she going to sit there all day?” He asks. Maria purses her lips. “I’m guessing we need to wait. He’s already showing more emotion in these ten minutes than we got out of him in a week.”

“Hmm.”

 

“So,” Winter starts. The scientist is sweating now, after twenty minutes of silence. Her voice is low, and all the more dangerous.

She stays in her seat, looking relaxed.

“Do you want to tell me what kind of experiments you were doing?”

“I… I don’t know anything, I- I swear,” he stutters. She lifts an eyebrow. “You don’t? Well, can you tell me how you don’t know anything about those children? Those scared children?”

“I- I…”

She remains calm. “We’ve got all the time in the world, Kruger.”

“H-how do you know my name?”

“Does your wife know? And your children? Do they know what a sick mind you have? Do they know about the bodies hidden away, rotting? Do they know that if they show any sign of being a mutant, they will be hunted down and experimented on by you?”

He turns pale.

“That’s what I thought. You know, I can just ring their doorbell and tell them what you did. I can do that.”

“Please… please don’t…” he begs. Winter leans back in the chair and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Let’s make a deal,” she says softly. “You tell me everything you know, and I won’t speak to your family about your involvement with Hydra.”

He shivers. “I swear… I’ll tell you everything!”

“Okay. Start.”

 

“So, you’re not going to tell his family?”

Winter turns to Fury. “I said _I_ wasn’t going to speak to them. I didn’t say anything about others.”

“She’s good,” Fury mumbles, and Maria nods. “And goddamn terrifying.”

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

“—eckmate,” Constance says. Winter walks into the lounge room with a mug wrapped in her hands. She’s wearing a sweater that is way too big for her but doesn’t seem to mind as she flops down on the couch next to Harley.

He’s watching the tv intently.

“What are you watching?” She whispers. He looks at her and smiles. “An old series called The Society. It’s pretty good.”

She touches her soulmark and feels her skin tingle—suddenly she’s glad she made the decision not to remove it.

“Harley…” she whispers. “Hmm?”

“Do you have a soulmark?”

He turns on the couch to look at her and frowns. “I don’t. They’re rare. Why?”

She shakes her head. “Just wondering,” she says airily. He nods and turns to the tv again.

When Winter looks up, she sees Aryan looking at her. He raises an eyebrow, and she quickly looks away again.

 

She helps Constance with throwing daggers—makes sure Harley performs the right physical activities and ambushes him from time to time to make sure he never drops his defences.

Levi can shrink by nature—which makes him the perfect Ant-Man of course—and tends to sit on top of either Winter’s or Constance’s shoulders and Sharon and Wanda always make everyone breakfast.

James and Sam are runners, and Winter and Macy join them a few times on their early morning runs.

Winter eventually stops doing it because she has to get out of bed so early—even though she doesn’t sleep at all.

She spars with James in their free time, and James turns into Bucky.

She shows him the weaknesses of his metal arm and as the days get colder, she stays down in the lab with Dr. Banner who is Bruce now, and she watches Harley adjust things in the armour sometimes.

Wanda and Oliver bond over cartoon shows, and every Friday night they all come together to watch a Disney movie—it’s obligated team bonding, Maria said, but nobody really objected against it, so it doesn’t feel obligated at all.

Peter is by far the youngest out of all them and is also the only one who still has to finish high school.

He doesn’t mind too much, though, he tells them, and during the weekends he likes to stay at the Mansion, but overall, Winter doesn’t see him much.

 

* * *

 

One night, they’re all in the kitchen—well, not all of them, since Bucky and Oliver are on a recon mission, Rhodey is at the medical bay for his monthly check-up and Peter is home in Queens—and Macy is cooking a stew.

The whole kitchen smells like it, and Winter sits in the middle of it, a little uncomfortable since she’s the only one who’s not going to eat it.

She’s felt sick since that morning, and nothing seems to help, so she thinks her stomach won’t be able to handle human food any time soon.

Meanwhile, Aryan is playing some sort of card game with Sam and Wanda, and Sharon and Maria are discussing something about wine. Winter herself is on the countertop of the kitchen island, with Levi and Harley right behind her at the breakfast bar.

“It’s snowing!” Harley then calls out, and Winter turns around to look out the window, where it is indeed snowing.

And not just a tiny bit. It looks like a blizzard. She wraps her arms around herself and wants to sink into her soft sweater, when suddenly, a shot of pain runs through her body.

She suppresses the urge to yelp and presses her hand against the place where her soulmark is. Then she quickly retracts it—it burns!

Aryan looks at her with concern, but she smiles at him and as relaxed as she can, walks out of the kitchen.

 

She bumps against her door frame and sucks in a deep breath. Her head is fuzzy, and her view is not entirely clear— _what_ _is happening to me?_

She stumbles over her own feet to the bathroom and falls to her knees in front of the toilet—there is a sour sensation in her mouth, and then she throws up.

It makes her eyes burn with tears and her nose tingle. When she’s done, she leans backwards against the cold wall and lets the cold seep into her body. It feels just a bit better, but her stomach-ache remains.

_“Winter, are you alright?”_ Friday asks carefully.

“’m fine—” Winter wants to wave the AI’s concerns away, but as she pushes herself up from the wall, she vomits again, luckily close enough to the toilet to avoid spilling everything on the floor.

“Oh shit,” she groans, and she clutches her stomach. _What is going on with me?_

 

 _“I’m calling your brother, Winter,”_ Friday says.

Winter doesn’t respond and lets her chin rest on the toilet seat, waiting for another wave of nausea to hit.

It does hit, just when Aryan walks into the bathroom, and her entire body shivers. Aryan rushes to her side and holds up her hair as tears slowly start dropping into the toilet.

He flushes the toilet and helps her up.

“What’s going on?” He asks softly. In the doorway appear Wanda and Sam, both with worry in their eyes.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, wiping away her tears.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but is hit with another wave of nausea, and she stumbles forward until she clinging to the toilet seat again.

 

“Bruce! Bruce, we need your help!”

Winter leans on Aryan as they step into the medical bay. Her head feels a bit fuzzy. She blinks, once, twice, but nothing helps to clear up her view.

“What’s wrong with her?” Bruce asks, and his voice is already fading away.

“She’s throwing up. She threw up at least five times already.”

Bruce immediately grabs something that looks like a bucket and shoves it in someone’s hands. It’s held under her face, and before she knows it, she retches again and throws up in the bucket.

Someone pats her back.

“It’s okay,” Wanda says softly. “You’re going to be okay.” And then, to Bruce. “What do we need to do?”

“Put her down on a bed but seated. Stay with her with that bucket to make sure she throws up in it and not on something else, and I’ll get Helen.”

 

Before she knows it, she’s seated on the bed, shivering like crazy, held by Aryan and with the bucket in between her legs.

Wanda quickly ties her hair in a ponytail and takes a napkin to clean her face.

“There,” the Sokovian says kindly. Her green eyes are glittering with compassion and Winter turns her face away because she hates looking at people who show such vulnerability in front of her.

Bruce enters the room again, this time with Dr. Helen Cho behind him. The South-Korean woman smiles at Winter.

“You’ve been throwing up?”

“We’re at six now,” Aryan says sombrely. His hand is in hers and his eyes are searching contact with her own, but she keeps her eyes trained on the bucket in front of her.

 

After taking some blood and conducting some smaller research on her, Helen disappears into another with Bruce right behind her.

Wanda sighs. “I’m going to tell Macy that you two won’t be there for dinner.” She gives Winter another smile, but the white-haired woman doesn’t respond, and then Wanda disappears.

 

Half an hour later, most of the stomach pain has subdued, and Winter leans back into the pillows.

“I’m sleepy,” she mumbles. Her head is still foggy and her soulmark stings, but she doesn’t want to look at it—not with everyone here.

Aryan nods. “You can sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll watch over you.”

She opens her mouth to say something else, but then the sour taste is back and before she knows it, she retches above the bucket.

The burn is horrible and she’s crying now, as she tastes blood on her lips.

“You’re vomiting blood…” Aryan whispers in horror. And then, “She’s vomiting up blood! Bruce! Bruce please, she’s vomiting up blood and she can’t stop!”

She retches again and this time it’s more blood than anything else, and she sobs. Her stomach is burning like someone’s lighting fire to it, and it feels like someone is smashing a hammer against her skull.

She vaguely hears Aryan yell again, and then heavy footsteps. Then she feels a slight prickle in her arm, and she slowly sinks away into the dark.

 

When she wakes up, the medical bay’s light is dimmed.

Someone is holding her hand, and she follows her hand that is entangled with a darker one, until she ends up with her eyes on Rhodey’s face. He lays on her legs, with his head turned towards her so she can see every tiny detail of his face. She swallows and turns her head away.

“Good,” Bruce says from next to her. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

She looks at her other arm, where an IV sticks into her arm. She follows the IV until she sees Helen hanging the bag with some sort of fluid on the IV drip.

“Tired,” she croaks. “Headache. Stomach.”

But it’s not as bad as before; it’s a bearable pain, and Winter is glad that they have such good doctors here, because she doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

“So,” Bruce says, turning the clipboard in his hands, “we have the results to your blood test.”

She nods.

“We can’t find anything. That’s what makes it so weird, Winter, there’s nothing in your blood that we can find, but this… this is isn’t normal.”

Her fingers go up, up, up, to trail over her soulmark. Her skin tingles a little.

“We’re still researching all your options, but I can’t say anything for sure yet. It could be a side-effect of the transformation of your DNA, although I do wonder why that would come so late—or just morning sickness. We’re doing the best we can.”

She smiles at him. “Thank you.” Her voice is still hoarse, and her throat hurts a little, but she knows it’s nothing she can really help, so she keeps quiet about it.

 

She doesn’t know how long she’s been awake when Rhodey stirs. He shifts and then slowly gets up, still a little dazed.

He blinks a few times and rubs his hand over his eyes—but he doesn’t let her hand go.

“Hey,” he mumbles then. “How’re you?”

 _He’s adorable._ The thought flashes through her mind and she immediately pushes it to the back, into the room of lost thoughts that she never wants to hear again.

He smiles at her, a soft, crooked smile that makes him seem a lot younger than he is.

“I’m okay,” Winter says softly. “I’m okay.”

“Good.” He nods and keeps looking at her—lets his eyes trail over her face. For the first time in her life she isn’t uncomfortable by these actions and just lets him. It feels nice, being able to look at each other at peace, without anything disrupting it.

The corner of her mouth quirks up as he fiddles with his blouse.

“How long have you been here?” She asks, and she wants to regret making small talk, but she really doesn’t. He smiles at her, soft and pliant and _open,_ and for the first time in her life Winter wants to open herself to him as well.

“A few hours,” he says, and he shrugs. “Could be more. I don’t know. Aryan left when I came—he had to sleep.”

“Well,” Winter says. “I’m glad you stayed with me.”

He squeezes her hands and no further conversation is necessary. They’re here with each other and that’s all they need. (She never knew she was so sappy, but oh well)

 

* * *

 

_Why does a soulmark burn?_

She almost asks Friday but resists at the last minute. She doesn’t know if the AI would tell the others about it if she did, and she really doesn’t want to take the risk.

She’s been out for only a few days but sticks to her own room anyways.

She can’t train or do anything that might jeopardize her condition, and because she’s angry at James for confining her like this, she doesn’t talk to him. Or the others, for that matter.

She feels exceptionally useless.

* * *

 

One afternoon, two days after the team goes on a mission and leaves her, Rhodey and Harley alone in the Mansion, she hears quick footsteps and soft voices.

She looks up from her book when Maria and Levi walk in, both carrying two small girls.

Behind them stands Aryan, with two boys holding his legs. He grimaces at Winter.

“Hello,” he says, and Winter quickly closes her mouth.

“What is going on?” She asks.

“They were hit by some sort of machine. Now they’re de-aged, back to five years old,” says Maria with a shrug.

The kids are wearing clothes that are way too big for them, but before Winter can say something about it, a heavy body lands on her lap.

She huffs out and picks up the child. His left arm glints in the sunlight and she narrows her eyes.

“James?”

“Bucky,” the boy says pointedly, crossing his arms over each other with a pout. Winter raises an eyebrow. He looks adorable like that.

When she looks up, she notices that the other kids have crawled on the couches and are watching her intently.

She notices Wanda sitting closest to her, with her hand in Macy’s. Next to them sits Sam with a wide toothy grin, and Oliver and Constance next to him.

They’re chattering softly and Winter turns to look at the others. “We should probably take them to the lab,” Levi says softly. “They’ll need to be checked up on by Helen and maybe Bruce can try to find out how they’ve been de-aged.”

 

“I don’t wanna!” Bucky cries, and he tugs on Winter’s hand forcefully, trying to pull her away from Helen.

Winter purses her lips.

“You need to let Helen draw a bit of your blood,” she says softly. “Come on tita, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

His lip quivers, but he lets her hand go and jumps on the bed. Helen smiles at him and starts talking while Winter lets her eyes wander away.

Sam is sitting on another bed, licking a big brightly coloured lollipop.

Wanda is in Levi’s lap, chattering about something Winter can’t understand.

 

When Rhodey and Harley walk in, almost everybody is done.

Bucky is holding Winter’s hand again, but she steadfast tunes out his voice as she thinks about how they need to fix this.

She is not going to live with six toddlers—even though they are incredibly adorable.

_Winter, you need to check out your priorities._

Helen carefully sets Macy on the bed, and the girl immediately starts crying.

“I am _not_ dealing with this right now,” Rhodey says, and he turns around and walks away. Harley lifts an eyebrow but then hurries towards Macy and holds her as Helen carefully pushes the needle in her arm.

“Hey Bucky,” Winter whispers. The boy looks up at her with those innocent blue eyes, and for a second, she forgets what she wanted to do.

She bites her lip. “You need to let go of my hand.”

“But- but I don’t wanna be alone,” he says, and his eyes are glistening with tears. Winter pushes a sigh back and wonders how she even helped raise Aryan if this makes her so agitated.

“You won’t be alone,” she says, pushing his small hand away, “and I’ll be gone for just a minute, kay?”

He nods, not entirely convinced, and she quickly leaves.

 

She finds Rhodey in the kitchen.

“So,” she says. “What’s up?”

He doesn’t turn around and simply sighs. She almost puts her hand on his shoulder but decides against it at the last minute.

“I just…”

He sighs again and his shoulders sag. She almost steps forward to wrap her arms around him but shoves the image of that out of her head immediately. Her fingers seek out the skin under her cheekbones and she reminds herself that she has a soulmate, and even though she will never meet them, she will remain faithful.

He rubs his chest and lets out another heavy sigh.

“Tony was hit with an age regression spell once.”

Aha. There it is.

“If you don’t want to be near them, you’ll have to leave the kitchen,” Winter answers. _What do I do to comfort him?_

“Or you could cook for them. Aryan might even help you. He’s a pretty good cook.”

Rhodey doesn’t turn around, but she does notice he doesn’t sigh anymore.

“I’ll see you soon.” She turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Now she knows that she doesn’t ever want kids for herself.

They are loud and obnoxious and demand attention literally every minute.

And when she does find some space for herself, Bucky finds her and crawls on her lap, trying to tell her about whatever he spooked out with Sam and Oliver.

They’re just annoying.

 

Bucky cries a lot, she finds out.

The first night when she leaves him in his own bed, he cries, “Don’ leave me!”

With a heavy sigh, she lets him come with her—and that’s also definitely the last time she sleeps with a smaller child in bed.

 

One night she sits on the balcony with a cigarette in her fingers.

Maria is the one who comes out to stand next to her.

“They’re a lot,” the agent sighs. Winter nods.

She used to be good with children. Especially the young ones. But that all changed. After the experiments… after Hydra nothing was the same.

She lifts her head to look at the stars in the sky.

“Maybe this is what they need.”

“What do you mean?”

“Children are pure,” Winter says. She heaves a sigh before continuing. “Maybe being young is what they need to move past their sorrow.”

“I don’t think they ever will.”

“Maybe not. And their void will never be filled. But eventually, the pain will fade. It takes long. Sometimes too long. But…” she breathes in slowly, “that’s what life is for. To learn.”

 

* * *

 

Two weeks after, Winter sits in the lounge room playing chess with Aryan and Bucky, who has proudly chosen to remain on her lap during the game.

She doesn’t appreciate it.

(She does)

 

“Checkmate,” she says triumphantly. Aryan groans. “That’s the fifth time in a row! Don’t you have anything better to do than to beat me every single time?”

“No,” she says with a smirk.

Aryan opens his mouth to say something else, but nothing comes out because Helen chooses that moment to step into the lounge room.

“We found it,” she says with a light smile.

“Foun’ wha’?” Bucky asks. He clings to Winter’s blouse as she carelessly strokes his hair.

Helen’s smile becomes wider.

“Your cure.”

 

They lead the six children down to the lab. They each must sit on a bed, and Bucky holds Winter’s hand when Helen starts injecting her formula into the children’s arms.

“Wha’s gonna happen?” He asks in a small voice. Winter gives him—what she hopes is—a reassuring smile.

“You’re gonna be back to normal.”

“But I am normal,” Bucky whispers. He leans towards her and adds, “Can’t I stay with you fo’ a little while?”

Winter chuckles and shakes her head. Now his lip quivers.

“But I don’t wanna disappear!”

Now the other children look up in alarm, and Winter quickly shushes him by letting him crawl into her arms and push his face against her shoulder.

“You won’t disappear,” she says softly. “All of you will stay in the older Bucky. I promise.”

He pulls back and looks at her with those innocent eyes that she’s come to- _stop there, Winter,_ she immediately says to herself. _No emotional attachment, remember?_

She smiles at him, as genuine as she can muster.

“I’ll stay with you, alright?”

 

“He’s sleeping too?”

Winter looks down at the sleeping boy in her arms and nods. “Yeah. Took him a while.”

She doesn’t notice Helen’s fond smile, and instead focuses on putting Bucky under the covers of the bed.

He furrows his brows and keeps clinging to her.

“No, no,” he whispers. «Я не хочу быть одна», he murmurs then.

She stops in her movements and just stares at him, frozen.

_I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want- no, no, stop, Winter, stop trying to make yourself crazy._

“Winter? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Winter looks at Helen and gives the scientist a small smile. “I’m fine. I think I’ll be staying with him for a while, though. At least until he releases me.”

Helen chuckles and leaves them to it. Winter carefully climbs into the bed and pulls the covers over the both of them. It’s big enough for them, and she’s suddenly very glad that she isn’t that muscled.

 _Why did he choose me,_ she thinks. _Why was I the one he stayed with?_

 

Before long, she sinks into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up, there is a warm back pressed against her chest.

She slowly retracts her arm and pushes herself up on the bed, only to catch Rhodey’s eye on the other side of the room.

For some reason he looks pained, but when he sees her, that emotion disappears. He nods at her and turns around, to give Bruce his full attention.

Bucky murmurs something in his sleep and Winter smiles.

_He’s not a kid anymore. Thank god._

Then why does her chest tighten like that?

 

* * *

 

Winter steps out on the roof and lifts her head to look at the dark sky above her. It's lit with millions of stars that are shining down on them. 

 _Dana and Noah are there,_ she thinks.  _And mom and dad too._

"What are you doing out here?" A voice sounds close to her. She winces at how close it is. 

"Didn't mean to scare you," he continues. "Sorry." 

She hums.

“Did you know that I used to take so many dames out in the thirties and the forties because they were scared their parents were going to find out they were lesbians?” He laughs, but it lacks joy.

Winter looks at James—no, _Bucky_. He's carrying a large battle of vodka. He sees her looking at it and lifts it up with a grimace. "Can't get drunk," he says. "Wish I could though. To forget."

"Do you... do you remember everything?"

He sits down at the edge of the roof and pats on the space next to him. She sits down too, and they both look at the sky.

"Not everything," he admits. "I mean—I remember more than I want to sometimes, but I guess I forgot a lot too. Count your blessings I guess."

He puts the bottle on his lips and takes a large gulp. Then, he says, "You don't remember anything from your..."

"My time as a brainwashed assassin? No." That’s a lie. She does remember. She remembers their screams and their eyes pleading for help and all the blood—god, _all_ that blood.

Bucky hums. "Not much, anyways," she continues. She turns her head to look at him. "Sometimes I remember too much, and then I wish I could forget."

Bucky looks her way and there's something in her eyes that makes her calmer than before. He hands her the bottle. "You need it too," he says with a rough voice, and then he purposefully turns his head towards the sky—presumably to mask his sadness. 

She takes a gulp and lets the alcohol slide through her throat. It doesn't affect her—never did. Once she could taste it, Hydra had already made sure it wouldn't affect her at all, as to not ruin the missions they had to go on. 

They sit like that together, legs dangling over the edge of the roof, heads tilted towards the sky. And Winter feels just a bit less alone. 

 

* * *

 

 

**New York City**

They end up taking a trip to New York City to buy a Christmas tree.

Winter isn’t sure why, but she knows that Maria and Bucky had something to do with it.

 

When she asks Bucky about it, he gives her a toothy grin. “We thought that this would be the perfect chance to celebrate something together. As a family.”

Hearing that warms her like nothing else ever did—which in turn makes her angry.

Her real family is gone. These people… they are not her real family.

 

They pick a very small tree, with a few chopped off branches and a lot less leaves than it should have.

Yet, they love it.

“Imperfect,” Constance says.

“Just like us!” Oliver continues with a grin. The two look at each other and Winter leaves them alone to stroll over to the café, where everyone else still is.

Aryan steps outside on the streets and she stops in her tracks.

He smiles at her.

“You cold?”

He shakes his head. “Not much. You get used to the weather eventually, right?”

She chuckles at that and wraps an arm around him as she pulls him with her.

“I thought about buying gifts for everyone,” she admits as she shows him the shop window of the shop she just walked past.

She points at the poetry book in the shop.

“But then I remembered that we painted. Do you remember that? We took classes once on a mission.”

Aryan blinks and then he smiles. “Yeah,” he says, tone wistful. “I remember that.”

“I thought that we could do that together.”

She turns to him and he takes her hands into his own. She squeezes and he smiles.

“Of course we can.”

 

Minutes later, they step into an art store. The smell of paint fills Winter’s nostrils and brings her back to snowy afternoons like this one, where they sat in the Horseback with hot chocolate and their tassels and their paint.

And—a face. A young one, with bright brown eyes and a honey sweet voice and lips so soft— _enough, Winter,_ she cuts her thoughts off. _Enough reminiscing._

What pulls her out of her thoughts is the panicked voice of the shopkeeper.

“Help!” She yells. “Please, help, my husband- he- he fell and- and—”

“Show us where he is,” Aryan says hastily, and she leads them to the back of the shop.

It’s dark there, and Winter almost stumbles over a pot of paint. Aryan catches her arm in time, and then the door bangs closed.

Winter turns to Aryan, and suddenly she feels very uncomfortable. His hands are trembling.

“I’m scared,” he whispers. She wraps her arms around him. “I am too,” she says, and then something hard and cold hits the back of her head, and the darkness takes her.

 

* * *

 

 

**Location unknown**

When she wakes up, she is lying on the metal table of her nightmare.

Immediately, she starts to move on the cold surface. The lights above her are blinding and so she averts her eyes. But the bands around her wrists and legs are too strong and when her skin touches them, she hisses in pain.

Then a face appears above her.

The man is smiling at her—it’s a vicious smile.

“My name is Dr. Zola.”

He places a hand on her chest, and she squirms under his touch.

“There, there, little butterfly. Are you ready?”

Then he places something on her stomach, and she screams when something starts to burn inside of her.

 

The darkness takes her too soon—or maybe just on time.

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

When she wakes up, she's surrounded by darkness.

_Where am I?_

_What happened?_

 

_Where is... where was I?_

That doctor... he said he was Zola? But Arnim Zola is dead. She had watched him be buried, hidden by the trees, freshly out of cryostasis. That was... 1972?

Why is her mind so hazy? Everything seems to glide over each other. They had... they had made it out, right? What did they do to them?

 

She remembers a face—a cold face. And this voice…

She closes her eyes again and tries to remember—tries so desperately to remember her family and her friends. Her family... who are they?

She remembers faces and voices, but everything is vague and already fading away before she can truly grasp it.

And her friends... does she have any friends?

_"You don't have any friends, agent. You only have us."_

 

She tries not to move, but she does, and the sheets on her body shift and the cool air touches her skin. She's laying under sheets. _Why?_

 

And then, suddenly, she remembers. She remembers a face, terrified and bloody and bruised, but eyes full of hope, coaxing her into understanding, making her drop him.  _Aryan! Oh my god, I killed Aryan! Aryan, my brother, my brother, my brother, Aryan—_

She shoots upright immediately, but a warm hand presses her back into the mattress carefully.

"Don't worry," a warm voice says, so different from the other voice she remembers, "you're safe now. You're at the Mansion—”

"Aryan," she chokes out. The warm hand is firm and steady, and she would have broken it if she had the chance, but for some reason, all the energy is drained out of her body. 

"Aryan is fine, Winter," the voice tells her. Winter? Who is Winter? Is she... is she Winter? Why doesn't she remember that?

"He's sleeping now. He is okay. You're okay."

"I..." she struggles to find the words, and in the end, takes a deep breath before letting the words slip over her lips. "Where am I?"

A pause. 

"You're in the Avengers Mansion," the voice then answers, a little hesitant. 

_"The Avengers are your mission, agent. They need to be disposed of—”_

"My mission," she whispers, but she doesn't have the energy to get up and complete it.

 

"You succeeded," the voice says. She likes the voice. It's warm and steady. "You came back to your family."

 

_My family... who is my family?_

She exhales slowly and the warm hand moves to her arm now, drawing soothing circles on her skin.

The fingers are calloused, but the touch is soft and light. It makes her warm inside. Her muscles relax, and she lets the darkness haul her in again.

 

* * *

 

Rhodey drops his hand after her breathing is steady and slow again. She lies perfectly still in her bed, as if she's not asleep, but actually-  _no,_ he tells himself.  _Don't think about that._

He stays seated for a while, watching her—guarding her. 

The others are asleep too; Sharon, Oliver, Harley and Aryan in the medical wing and the rest in their bedrooms. Sam is probably awake, though. The guy feels guilty for letting Winter be taken by Hydra, but everyone keeps assuring him that that's not the case. Hydra would have gotten to her anyways—they always do. 

 

She's been asleep for days now, and this is the first time she was awake.

Dazed, sure, but awake, nonetheless. 

Rhodey knows it's going to take time to get whatever Hydra did to her out of her mind. He doesn't even want to think about it but judging from the way she didn’t even fight when they found her and took her away, something terrible happened.

And he hasn't known Winter for a long time, but he knows she's very strong. Physically  _and_ mentally. She looks like she's made of iron, and it makes him think of Tony.  _"Stark men are made of iron, Platypus,"_ Tony sometimes said to him when they were still at MIT.

He's only seen her break apart when they were at that old facility with all the children inside. And even then, she maintained some sort of air around her—that warned everyone not to say, not to ask. 

And afterwards, she seemed perfectly fine. Which she wasn't, by the way, because nobody would be fine after seeing something like that, especially not if what she said about the experiments performed on her and her brother was true. 

His eyes look for her face even though he can't really see her—it’s too dark for that. Bucky was the one who came up with that, saying that she would be too disorientated anyways, and that if she would see her room, it would be even worse.

Bucky wanted to stay with her at first—which he did—but then she got nightmares and started murmuring stuff that made him run out of the room, face pale. Sam didn't even try—said he didn't want to leave Bucky alone at night even though they all know he blames himself and he probably can't even look at her without breaking down. 

Maria offered to stay too, and then Constance did as well—all the others didn't, but nobody blames them. Rhodey knows it's because they're a bit intimidated by Winter (Peter isn't, but he wanted to stay by Aryan's side in case anything happened). He can't blame them for that either. 

She is really closed off and has a dangerous glint in her eyes—something that Bucky still has sometimes too. Rhodey figures that underneath all those layers and walls of concrete she put up, she's a person that just needs a family. 

Winter reminds him a lot of Natasha, in that concept. He doesn't know why thinking of the former Black Widow doesn't make his eyes burn with tears anymore, but maybe it's because he's getting closure. This new team—these new recruits; they're already like family. 

He wonders if he should alert anyone on her waking up, but then he figures that Friday will tell them if it's necessary and otherwise he will tell them when it's morning again. 

 

He checks his watch and notices the time. His hours are up, and it's time for Maria to take her turn until sunrise. 

Rhodey gets up from his chair, but then Winter's hand tightens around his. "Stay," she whispers, so soft that he almost doesn't hear it. "Please."

So, it turns out she wasn't asleep at all. Or maybe she was, and she just woke up. He doesn't know—she’s good at hiding.

 _Why,_ he wants to ask, but he doesn't. He feels something cracking in his back as he sits on the chair again, and then Winter tugs on his hand. 

 

Slowly, she moves a bit further away from him, and opens the sheets. Then she turns and looks at him with bright eyes—one golden, the other a bright blue.  _Beautiful,_ he thinks.

"Are you sure?" He whispers. She doesn't give him a nod but squeezes his hand in answer. 

With a deep breath, he sinks onto the bed next to her. He always sleeps on his side, so he turns and looks at her. She blinks, and then turns around again. 

 

He tenses when she presses herself against his chest. 

She whispers something in a language he doesn't understand, and it sounds pained and a bit like a question. 

Wondering if he is right, he slowly drapes his arm around her. She breathes out and nestles even closer to him—making him warm all over. 

 _She's just a kid!_ he snaps at himself.  _She's almost half your age!_

Those thoughts disappear, however, when she lets out a sigh and relaxes in his arms. He puts his head back on the pillow and lets himself relax too and wonders if this is what she wants—to be held and guarded.

Then sleep takes him.  

 

When he wakes up, his face is pressed in the back of her neck. She isn't warm, but not cold either, and she smells nice.

He silently thanks Constance and Maria for cleaning her because she was covered in blood when they found her.

 

She's still relaxed, and he can hear her breathing in and out slowly.  _Probably still asleep,_ he thinks. Slowly, he extracts his arm from under her, and then softly lifts his other arm too. She tenses for a moment, before relaxing again.

 

Then she turns, suddenly, and the sun shines into the room at just the right time and highlights her face. She looks beautiful and serene like that, with her eyes closed and her white hair framing her face and—oh.  _Oh._

Rhodey all but runs out of her room, with his heart hammering in his chest and his cheeks on fire.

 

_Jesus Chris, Rhodey, get yourself together. She's thirty-six years old and way too young for you._

 

* * *

 

Sam doesn't know why Rhodey requested to go on a solo recon mission instead of Maria, but he gives it to him anyways since Maria doesn't seem too keen to leave the Mansion right now. 

He swaps guarding duty with Maria in the afternoon, after lunch, and sits by the side of Winter's bed while she's still asleep. 

 _Wake up,_ he thinks.  _Wake up and show us that you're alive—that you're okay and there's nothing to worry about._

She doesn't wake up and leaves him alone with his thoughts. 

 

Bucky joins him around five and sits down next to him. 

"Still no movement?" He whispers. Sam's not so sure why they're whispering; Constance bumped into the wall in Winter's room two days ago and released a string of curses as loud as she could—yet Winter didn't move. 

"No," he whispers back. Bucky nods solemnly and they watch Winter together. 

"This is creepy," Bucky whispers after a while. Sam doesn't laugh, even though he wants to—just a little bit. 

"I know," he says instead. "But we need to keep an eye on her."

"Can't Friday do that?"

"Friday can't help her if anything goes wrong, Buck," Sam sighs. He looks at Winter. She's on her back again, eyes closed and chest rising and falling. It makes him calm, seeing her so serene.

Bucky sighs too. "I can't believe they got to her. She's so strong..."

"Hydra can come with a ton of surprises. And we already know she's got a past with them, it's easy to play into that."

"Hmm."

They stay silent until Constance comes in with a bright smile and tells them to go sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Winter wakes up, she feels like Winter again. 

She breathes in deeply, and then opens her eyes to scan her surroundings. 

 _My room,_ she thinks.  _I'm in my room. In my bed._

 

"Hey," she hears a soft voice next to her. "Are you awake?"

She recognizes the voice—Constance, she realizes. She turns her head to look the blonde in the eye, and the girl smiles softly. 

"Good morning, Winter. How do you feel?"

Her throat is  _really_ dry, but Winter doesn't mention it because then... then she'd have to tell them about her nature. 

 

She scans Constance's face, and is overcome by a sudden thought.  _Would that be that bad?_

She immediately pushes it away.  _Never trust anyone, not even yourself,_ they had told her.

But well, she's already in it, right? She's already too far to get out now. And it should scare her—it doesn’t. Not at all. It only makes her feel a warm fuzzy feeling in her chest as she smiles back at Constance. 

"I'm fine," she says, already pushing herself up. Her muscles are sore, but that can be helped with some training and a run. 

Constance's smile grows. "That's great!"

Winter rubs her face. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A few days," Constance says offhandedly, like it's not a big deal. Winter nods and tries to keep her emotions in check as she stares at her hands. 

 

"What... what do you remember?"

"Not much," Winter answers, and she's surprised by the blatant truth in the statement. She looks at Constance again. "I remember voices and some faces, but not much."

Constance nods. "What happened when I was away? How am I even here?"

She doesn't miss the wince, and immediately tenses. Whatever it is, it can't possibly be good. 

She remembers Aryan, but she also remembers that warm voice that told her she was alright, and that Aryan was just asleep. She trusts the voice, even though she can't really make a connection as to whose it was. 

"We can talk about that later. Aren't you hungry?"

"I guess so," Winter says with a shrug. "I'll leave you to get dressed, and I'll make you breakfast." Constance slips out of the room and leaves Winter alone. 

 

She takes a shower and afterwards steps out in front of the mirror. Her eyes trail over her face.

There is a new scar running from her ear over her jaw—and new bruises and fresh cuts on her arms and chest. She closes her eyes and tries not to remember the table and Dr. Zola.

 _I'm okay,_ she says to herself.  _I'm home now._

 

 _Home?_  she thinks a minute later. Her eyes widen.  _Home... Home. The Mansion is my home now. And these people...—no. It's too early for that._

 

She shakes her head and start brushing her wet hair. It's already curling—she always styles it and she's one hundred percent sure nobody's actually seen her in daylight with curls.

Apparently, the cream she uses to ensures it stays straight is really good, since it stayed in for days. 

She looks at her face in the mirror again and purses her lips. Her eyes trace the faint scar on her jaw.

 _Safe,_ she reminds herself.  _Safe. I'm safe._

 

When she shuffles into the kitchen, the room falls silent. 

She looks up and meets all the worried eyes fixed on her. She forces a smile on her face and quietly shuffles over to the breakfast bar in the middle of the kitchen, attached to the kitchen island.

The only one sitting there is Bucky, playing with his food. He doesn't look up when she sits on his left side, and he also doesn't notice the way her eyes hang on his metal arm for a little longer than a second. 

Constance is standing by the stove, fumbling with a pan and some eggs. Maria is perched up on the countertop of the kitchen island, holding an apple. Next to her is Macy, leaning against Levi, who's leaning against the counter instead of sitting on it. 

On the other side of the counter are Peter and Wanda. Sam is standing by the fridge, looking for something in it that Winter can't see. 

She swallows. The silence is pressing on her, but she doesn't want to talk. The sweet smell of blood filling the kitchen is almost overwhelming, and she's glad she took a suppressant just before entering the kitchen, or else she'd be going crazy right now. 

Constance walks over and shows her a plate with scrambled eggs and bacon. "There," she says proudly, handing Winter some cutlery too. "Enjoy your breakfast. Peter, shouldn't you be eating?"

The boy looks at her, confused. Constance sighs. "Fine. I'll make it for you."

After that, the room erupts in soft chatter. When Sam makes his way over to them, Winter must use all her willpower to avoid stiffening. She relaxes a bit when Sam puts his arms around Bucky and kisses him on his cheek. 

 

* * *

 

Eventually, she picks up training again. It gets a little better when she hears her daggers slamming into the wall—it gets easier to forget.

Training goes well. Winter settles into a familiar rhythm again; she helps Harley with his hand-to-hand combat and spars with Constance and Aryan.

They have a recon mission in France, and everything goes well. 

She talks to Maria sometimes, but does keep to her own most of the time. Aryan comes to her room occasionally when he can't sleep, and then she lays down with him and watches him sleep. 

It makes her feel very safe again. Like she's meant to do this—be an Avenger and be part of a family. Sometimes she still thinks it's too good to be true, but then she meets Bucky on the rooftop again or she sees Harley and Oliver on the couch together, and she remembers that this is what her life consists of now. 

A group of dysfunctional (mostly) human beings who all seem to have a knack for saving the world. 

 

* * *

 

One Friday night she wanders the hallways and she hears a whimper coming from the other side of the floor. 

She walks towards it and hears it become louder—only a bit. 

When she stops, she's in front of Peter's door. There is a spider on it, like there is a thunderbolt on hers and a falcon on Sam’s. 

She raises her hand to knock but decides not to and steps away. The whimpers soften, and then there's no sound anymore. She can only hear his rhythmic heartbeat. With the assurance that he's alright, she makes her way back to her own bedroom. 

 

The next morning, she meets him in the kitchen. Macy and Constance are out running, and Oliver and Levi are practicing archery on the shooting range. Aryan is still asleep, she knows, and she has no idea where the others are, because the only person she encounters is Peter. 

He has dark circles under his eyes and is pale. His eyes are a bit swollen—a clear sign of crying. 

She doesn't make a comment about it and moves to pour herself a cup of water. 

 

That night, she sits in the living room watching some sort of cartoon. She's got a lot to catch up on—after all, she and Aryan missed about fifty years of history. 

She can hear whimpers coming from Peter's room, and her chest tightens, but she doesn't move.  _You can't sneak into his bedroom Winter,_ she scolds herself.  _That's creepy. Like exceptionally creepy._

Half an hour later, he walks into the living room, clutching a mug in his trembling hands. 

He sits down next to her and she doesn't look at him—keeps her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her. 

"You know," she says slowly. "You can always come to my room if you can't sleep. Aryan... Aryan has trouble sleeping too and sometimes I hold him until he falls asleep."

It stays silent after that, and when the sun starts to come up, he's sagged against her, eyes closed. She gets up, careful not to wake him, and puts a soft blanket around him. He turns on the couch, and she looks at him for a minute before shaking her head and walking to her bedroom. 

_Don't get too attached. You'll be the one who walks away with a broken heart in the end._

 

* * *

 

After a particularly heavy sparring session with both Maria and Bucky at once, she retreats to her room early.

When she steps out of the shower, she's sore everywhere. Apparently, her fight with Bucky and Maria took a toll on her. She stretches in front of her mirror and then lazily dresses herself in a thin sweater that reaches her knees.

She grabs a book from her bedside table and starts reading while the clock keeps ticking. 

 

It's one am by the time someone knocks on her door. She jumps off her bed and moves to open the door. 

In front of her, in the darkness of the hallways, stands Peter. He looks exhausted.

"Can I... can I sleep here?" He asks with a small voice. Her chest tightens and she opens the door further. "Of course you can," she says, keeping her tone light on purpose. 

He steps in and she closes the door behind him. He flinches at the sound, and she waits as he slowly moves under her covers. 

"Your bed is cold," he murmurs. She shrugs. "I don't really sleep. It'll warm up soon enough. You comfortable?"

He nods shakily and presses his head into his pillow—like he wants to sink into her mattress and disappears. She's seen it enough times to know it's just the weight of everything in his mind on him. 

She puts her book away and turns her light off, while slipping under the covers next to him. He is shivering under it. 

She carefully places her arm around him, and he stiffens. "It's alright," she whispers. "If you don't want me to touch you, you can just say it, Peter. If you just want to lay here next to me, that's fine."

"No..." he whispers. "An arm... an arm would be fine."

She takes it and lies down next to him. 

 

It takes forever for his breathing to slow down, and when she's sure he's asleep, she moves to get out of the bed. 

A hand grips her wrist and she stiffens. 

"Please stay," he whispers, and she blinks, suddenly thrown back into her mind.  _"Stay...please..."_

Slowly, she turns again, and lies down under the covers. Peter shuffles closer and curls up against her, radiating warmth and calmness. She lets his soft breathing lull her into some sort of sleep. 

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up, Peter's still asleep next to her. He looks peaceful like that, and she slowly slips out of the bed. 

 _"The training session has already begun, Winter,"_ Friday says.

Winter looks up at the ceiling. "How long?"

_"Fifteen minutes. Should I ask Sam if you can come in?"_

Winter looks at Peter, who shifts on the mattress and lets out a groan. "Yeah," she whispers. "Do that."

 

She leaves Peter a plate with fruit and crackers, and then makes her way down to the training rooms, where everyone is already training. 

Some of them are practicing shooting—Aryan is one of them, Winter sees. 

Sam spots her immediately and makes his way over to her, where she's standing in the doorway. "Glad you could make it," he says with a smile. "We chose not to wake you because Peter was with you. Is he alright?"

"I'm not sure," she answers truthfully. "He has nightmares. I think he has PTSD too, but I'm not sure. You should talk to him about it."

Sam nods. "We're practicing shooting, but I'm sure you already knew that. Do you want to use a bow or a gun?"

"A bow is fine," Winter answers. Sam nods and waves Oliver over. Oliver grins at her and Winter gives him a curt nod in response.

"Great, finally someone who can appreciate the fine art of archery," he says. "You'd better practice on the shooting range outside," Sam says. "We'll keep an eye on you." 

How, Winter doesn't know. Frankly, she doesn't want to. She follows Oliver outside. 

 

He shows her how to hold the bow and tells her how to keep her arms in check. 

"It's a matter of concentration," he explains. "You need to be one with the bow. Keep your eyes on your target at all times."

She lets her first arrow go, which ends in the sand a bit further away from then. Oliver nods. "You just need practice," he says. "You're not half that bad. You've got the muscles and the aim for it. I'm guessing you're a sharpshooter?"

"Used to be," Winter answers flatly. She doesn't want to think about those nights in the snow anymore. 

Oliver makes a soft sound. "Try again," he says, and he steps away. 

She shoots six more times, and her fifth and sixth arrow end up in the target. 

"Amazing!" Oliver says, clapping. "You're a talent, Winter." 

She refuses to acknowledge the heat rising in her cheeks and thanks him with a nod. 

 

"Target. Dagger. Dagger finds target."

They nod. 

"You don't need muscles for this. Only speed and flexibility. I once hung from a rope for three hours to get my intended target. For now, don't focus on where to go, but focus on doing it. Practice the movement first." 

She shows them her movements. They follow her, some without problems, others, like Harley and Levi, with a little hesitation. 

"Don't hesitate," she tells them sternly. "In the real world, if you throw a dagger at someone, it doesn't matter if you missed or not. If you hesitate, you're dead."

They swallow and she turns around to pick a dagger from the table. 

"You pick your weapons carefully. Weight is the biggest factor here. It needs to be balanced too."

She balances the dagger on her finger. It doesn't tip to any side. 

"And be fast." She picks it up and throws it without looking. The soft thud tells her it hit the target.

"Now you go."

She walks away and watches them. 

 

In the end, she sends Constance, Oliver and Aryan away to practice with heavier knives, and keeps the other three on the other side. 

"Right," she says, stepping in front of them. "What do you know about martial arts?"

She doesn't wait for an answer and continues. 

"It's like a dance. Fluidity and movement. Fast and languid. Everything is precise and loose. You need to be tense and relaxed at the same time. It's the same as sharpshooting or shooting with a bow. You focus on the target and become one with your weapon. Your mind is fixed on only one thing, and that is that target. Do it again."

 

Harley is good. He doesn't have a lot of muscles, but he's fast. Maybe a bit too fast. 

Macy loses focus at the last second. She's good at it, but before she can throw, she seems to lose contact with her target.

Levi is not bad either, but a little clumsy. He doesn't hold his body right and leans too far backwards to really put his weight into the throw. 

 

She tells them this, and they try again. Now Harley hits the target twice. Macy hits it thrice, and once spot on. Winter doesn't congratulate her but tells her to practice more and she'll become better.

Levi seems to be in a worsening state as his two teammates join the others. 

He drops the dagger and sighs. "I'm never going to be able to do this," he sighs.

Winter furrows her brows. "Maybe," she says. He tenses, but hey, she's not here to coddle him. She's here to teach. 

"Sometimes things like this just aren't your thing. That's not that big of a problem. I'm not going to force you to do it. You either have it or you don't. I personally think the only ones who truly feel it are Bucky and me. 

"Now, you're either going to practice this, or you're going to do something else."

He sighs again. "I want to try. I'm just... I'm scared I can't do it."

Winter stops her sigh just in time, and instead smiles at him. "I get it," she says. "I was scared too. I still am, honestly. But these people are not going to laugh at you if you can't get it right, and there's nothing wrong with not being able to do something. Levi," she says softly, reaching out, "it's okay if you're scared. You're human. You have emotions. And unlike some of us, you can't turn them off."

He shows her a hesitant smile as she squeezes his shoulder.

"How about we try it together? I'll guide your arm. We'll do it slow and we can go through it in steps."

 

By the end of the day, he's hit the target five times.

He gives her a high-five and she smiles at him—a genuine, happy smile. 

"You did it, Levi. I'm proud of you."

She notices the slip immediately but doesn't say anything as everyone starts leaving. 

She's left in the room with Sam. 

 

"You know," he suddenly says as he starts assembling their things, "it's okay to show emotions sometimes."

She looks at him. 

"I'm not used to it," she says, and it's one of the first times she actually says what she's thinking. 

He looks up. "Practice makes perfect," he says, and then he grins at her. She finds herself smiling back, and they leave the room together while he chats about his new set of wings that Bruce and Dr. Selvig are making. 

 

* * *

 

They sit together for dinner that evening—Winter notices that Rhodey isn't there. Where is he?

She glances around the room as subtly as she can. When Bucky passes her, he whispers, "Recon mission."

Winter understands, and she ignores the pang in her chest and tries to keep on eating. 

Aryan glances at her once or twice but keeps up his conversation with Levi. 

She looks at her pasta and wonders if she will ever taste it again.  _Probably not,_ she thinks. The only thing she truly tastes is blood. The rest of it is just bland and tasteless. It shouldn't make her emotional, but it does. 

She blinks the tears away and keeps her emotions at bay while forcing a smile on her face as Macy asks her to pass the salt. 

 

"Sam?" She asks when he moves to leave the kitchen. He stops and turns around. The others are in the living room with their desserts. Winter swallows. 

"Can I... I need to tell you something."

He lifts an eyebrow but sits on the counter and looks at her. She looks at her hands. 

"I... I don't eat. I mean, I do, but I don't... I don't need to."

He lets her talk, stumble over her words. 

"I... uh... blood... I drink blood. Not human blood—just animal blood. I need it... I need it to survive."

She waves clumsily with her hands, as if that makes it any better. 

Sam nods. "Okay," he simply says. "Thank you for telling me. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

She quickly shakes her head. 

He smiles at her. "Okay. You coming to watch the movie?"

She follows him to the living room and looks at Aryan, who's sandwiched between Constance and Oliver. He's talking animatedly, and she notices there's no pang in her chest at seeing him this happy—finally he's found his family. And maybe she's found hers too. 

 

* * *

 

She wakes up heaving, with beads of sweat making their way over her forehead, trickling into her hairline. 

With a deep breath, she slides out of her bed and pads to the bathroom. 

_"Winter, are you alright? Your heart rate is accelerating—"_

"I'm fine," Winter snaps. The AI stops talking and lets Winter alone. Winter looks in the mirror—sees two different eyes staring at her. 

_Who am I?_

 

_What am I?_

 

Breakfast is a quiet affair. It's different now, that she can sit in the kitchen and slowly drink a glass of blood in front of them. 

They don't look at her for too long and they all give her small smiles to ensure she's comfortable. How can she not love them for that?

 

The routine stays the same. Espionage class on Monday, training on Tuesday, survival class on Wednesday, history on Thursday, training on Friday and the weekend off. 

On repeat. Espionage class, training, survival, history, training and espionage, training, survival, history, training and on and on and on. 

It stays like that for almost two months. 

 

When Rhodey comes back, Winter is not sure if she should be relieved or scared. 

Relieved because he's back in one piece, and he's tired but not hurt. 

Scared because she has no idea what to do with those feelings, he makes her feel—or she does, but she knows it's not something she should act on because it's dangerous. 

 

They settle into the same routine, but now Rhodey takes over from Sam on Friday, and Winter can't fucking concentrate when he's there. 

She drops her daggers and loses against Constance in a sparring session—that never happened before.

(And honestly, Constance gloats a little too much about it. If anyone sees Winter smiling while she does, it's not true and that did  _not_  happen, Harley)

 

She starts to hate those feelings because she doesn't want to accept them. 

She hates the flutter in her stomach when he touches her arm. She hates the leap her heart makes when he gives her one of those sweet smiles. She hates the way she smiles at him when he grins. She hates how small her voice sounds when he compliments her on her fighting skills. She hates the way he makes heat rise to her cheeks. 

She hates how she dreams about his smile and how she thinks,  _I want to be the one who puts it there every day._

She hates how she thinks about him when he's not there and that when he is, she can't concentrate on anything. 

She hates it. She hates it. She hates, hates, hates, hates it. (she really doesn't)

 

So. Avoiding it is.  _"How is that an adult response,"_ Peter asks at some point. She doesn't answer.

 

* * *

 

"So," Constance says on a cold morning.

She's on her second cup of coffee that morning and looks exhausted. Winter is sitting on the kitchen counter, with Peter standing next to her. She doesn't know why, but the boy seems to have appointed himself as her bodyguard or something.

"I know nobody talks about it, but are we going to hold a service for Iron Man?"

"Tony Stark," Rhodey immediately corrects her.

Constance huffs, but doesn't make a comment. 

"We already have," Maria says softly. 

Winter sees Levi furrow his brows. "But shouldn't the world be able to say goodbye to him? To thank him, I mean. And Black Widow too. Don't they deserve a goodbye from the rest of the world?"

Winter sees the Avengers trade looks. Peter, however, keeps his eyes on the floor. Before she knows what she's doing, she reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder. He looks at her and she offers him a sad smile.

 _He needs someone too. A big sister. Maybe- no, no, stop it, Winter!_ she reprimands herself.  _Stop pretending that they're your family. Get that fantasy out of your head._

 

* * *

 

Life goes on. 

Winter doesn't sleep and drinks too much caffeine, but she manages to keep up with her training and the lessons. 

It's an easy, relaxed week for her, and she helps Harley and Constance improve their knife-throwing while also sparring with Aryan. 

It's almost like they fall into a pattern. 

And it feels nice. 

 

At night, however, Winter writes down reasons why they are not her family, and every time she thinks about them as friends, she takes her notebook and reads it. 

Aryan doesn't notice and seems to be completely enthralled by them. She doesn't like it, but she knows she must let go. He's not her little brother anymore.

 

Sometimes she wishes they could go back to that—when he was small and her only goal in the world was to keep him safe. 

But then she also remembers the experiments and the pain and the blood, and she shuts off her brain in order to stop crying. 

 

* * *

 

They organize a public service for both Tony and Natasha.

None of the Avengers had thought about it before Constance brought it up—they only had memories to share with their own family, but Winter agrees with Levi; the world deserves to say goodbye too.

They’ve already buried the bodies—they got Natasha’s body too, for some reason Winter can’t figure out, but she doesn’t ask and simply nods because that’s what they need right now.

Not questions. Just people sharing their grief.

The bodies are on Tony’s land, a cottage in the woods, safely away from the living world.

So they don’t hold the service with bodies, but they have two coffins filled with their belongings and they put up pictures.

A few representatives of UN countries even go as far as to say they’ll put up flowers on the coffins. Pepper and Barton agree to it all. They want the people to see and to know what Natasha and Tony gave for them. Winter understands.

 

* * *

**Washington DC**

So, there they are, standing all in black, somewhere in DC, on a large square. There are so many people— _so_ _much people._ Sam sees it all and sees the politicians and presidents in the front rows and grits his teeth because it’s wrong. It was never about the politicians or the governments—it was about the civilians.

Still, there’s not much to be done about it, and the first three rows are reserved for the Avengers and their respective families anyways.

Sam sees Clint and Laura and their three kids, and he spots Steve there too, all old and wrinkled, with his four kids—Sam knows damn well the public will demand answers about it, but it’s not something he worries about now. He sees Carol too, with her friend Maria and her friend’s daughter Monica, and Valkyrie is there too. She’s one of the monarchs who has shown up. Thor is still on his quest with the Guardians and nobody knows for sure he’s coming back. He lost too much the last time.

He sees T’Challa with Ramonda, Shuri, Okoye and Ayo. There are several Dora Milaje in the distance, moving discreetly to go unnoticed. Fury is there too, with his wife Sharon and their daughter. Scott waves at him, slow and discreet, and sits next to Cassie and Hope.

And then there’s some more allies from the Avengers—he spots Peter’s two friends and his aunt, he sees his own sister and her family, there’s the Defenders (only Matt couldn’t make it, but that’s because he’s on a super-secret mission with his girlfriend so Sam doesn’t blame him) and a few of the X-Men that Tony befriended; Strange is there, with his associate and a new pupil, looking a bit younger and less tired, but still sad and still mourning.

Tony and Nat’s deaths hit a lot more people than they themselves had expected. Sam almost laughs at it, because he knows Nat would have shook her head and even Tony would have scoffed and said that he wasn’t worth it.

In a corner, he spots Deadpool and his girlfriend—fiancée? wife?—talking. There are also a few SHIELD agents that are apparently friends of Clint and Nat. Pepper is there too, a bit late, with Morgan and Happy, and they sit on the very first row, next to Clint’s family.

They’re all on the front three rows and Sam’s heart swells. The Avengers can count on so many people.

The real Avengers though, the New Avengers, as they dubbed themselves, stand with Sam, in half a circle around the two black coffins. One half a circle of seven behind Tony’s coffin and one half a circle of seven behind Nat’s coffin.

As it should be. A family. Protectors. And guardians.

But most of all: friends.

 

The service is beautiful. An orchestra plays soft, sad music, and first Pepper and Morgan go up to put a wreath of flowers against Tony’s coffin, and then Clint goes up to take a wreath and Bucky goes with him.

The four of them stand there for two minutes in silence.

Then the music swells a little and Valkyrie and T’Challa step forward.

They put their own, smaller wreaths, on top of the coffins—Valkyrie with Nat and T’Challa with Tony.

A few politicians Sam doesn’t know follow with their flowers, and before he knows it, it’s time to speak.

Since Bucky didn’t want to do it and Steve wasn’t an option, he will lead the entire service. He doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would.

 

“The Avengers are a team,” he starts. “No matter how many times we go into battle and lose and come out broken and bruises. We are and will always be a team. For us, losing a team member is like losing family. Tony and Natasha were family. And I speak for everyone on our team when I say that they are going to be missed, by both their family,” he glances at Clint and Pepper, “and by us. But!”

He continues, “We are not here only to honour their memories. We’re here to honour all the memories of those slain and fallen in battle to save our planet. We’re here to say goodbye and thank you to all those who made this possible, to all those people that helped us.

“We, as the Avengers, and I, as Falcon, assure you that we will do everything we can to make sure nobody is forgotten. No sacrifices will be forgotten and stashed away, and we want to thank every single one.

“Tony and Natasha,” he looks at the coffins, “they saved us. Thank you.” He steps away and he’s vaguely aware he’s crying. Sharon puts a hand on his arm and squeezes. He mouths a thanks to her as she smiles at him.

Rhodey steps up and holds a short, powerful speech about the man behind Iron Man. The air is tense and filled with emotions and Sam can already see a lot of people crying.

Next is Clint, who fiddles with his paper and breaks down in the middle of what he’s saying. Bucky helps him through it, puts an arm around his shoulder and tells him it’s okay.

* * *

It starts to rain.

Nobody cares. Winter feels the water seep into her bones, and it should make her cold, but the cold doesn’t bother her anymore, so she keeps looking forward, while next to her, Peter’s teeth are clattering.

She almost puts her arm around him but reminds herself just in time that emotions are for the weak and love is for children. 

 

Music plays and more people speak—the King of Wakanda and Captain Marvel and Dr. Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme and a few more whose names Winter doesn’t know.

They have a minute of silence.

 

People pay their respects later, and a lot of people leave, too. But most people of the front rows stay, and afterwards, when it’s all done, they go to one of Stark’s old mansions in the outskirts of DC.

People reminisce and drink and mingle, while the recruits keep to themselves in a corner. Well, except Harley, who sits with Rhodey and Peter.

Winter is tired, suddenly, and she leans into Aryan’s side. He’s surprised by her sudden display of affection.

“Are you alright?” He whispers in her ear, and she nods. Puts her head on his shoulder and lets her eyes wander through the room.

She catches Rhodes’ eye and smiles at him. When he smiles back, she feels warm and wants to hit herself in the face immediately. But she’s too tired to do anything about it, so just lets it happen and doesn’t wonder about the consequences. (She should have)

 

A bit later in the evening, when she’s stopped refilling her glasses of wine, she meets Peter in the hallway.

Or rather—bumps into Peter in the hallway.

He sniffles and moves away, but she catches his wrist.

“Peter,” she whispers. He looks up at her and his eyes are red and a bit swollen. His cheeks are wet with tears, and before she knows what she’s doing, she pulls him into an embrace.

He clings to her and starts sobbing—hiding his face in her shoulder. She doesn’t care that her dress gets wet again, and only pulls him closer.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, stroking his hair.

“It’s okay.”

_Who believes that?_

 

Later, they’re back in the lounge room again.

Peter introduces her to Pepper and Morgan. Happy only stares at her with a frown, which Winter returns with an icy glare.

Then she turns to the little girl.

“Hey,” she whispers with a smile. Morgan smiles back. “Hello. You have beautiful hair. Where did you get it?”

She almost laughs, but then she remembers how it changed— _no Winter, focus on something else._

She forces a smile on her face. “I’ve been born with it,” she lies. “I’ve always been very proud of it.”

 

Morgan is a nice kid, but Winter doesn’t stay long. She can see Peter is exhausted, and he just needs some space—preferably away from these people that stood so close to his mentor.

She takes him to another corner and doesn’t notice Rhodey’s eyes on her back.

 

“I miss him,” Peter croaks. Winter puts her hand on his back. “I know,” she says.

He turns his face to her and wipes a tear away. “And I can tell you it won’t really get any better. It’ll get worse and the void inside of you will suck you empty for a while. But eventually, it’ll fade away.

“And it’ll hurt, Peter, it always will.” She smiles at him. “But it’ll get less. And you’ll live with it.”

She pulls him in for another hug and he rests his head in the crook of her neck, slowly breathing in and out.

Neither of them notices the way Rhodey frowns and neither of them know that his chest tightens at seeing the both of them together in such a way.

 

* * *

 

**Brazil**

Two months later SHIELD finds another Hydra bunker buried deep into the ground in Brazil.

They take a few of the Avengers with them to clear the bunker. Winter comes with them.

 

They get in and it seems empty. Because they’re with less people than usual, they must split up. Winter decides to go alone and keeps her katana in her hand in case anything happens.

The hallways are dark and humid, but it doesn’t give her the creeps like Hydra’s other underground bases—which is probably because she was always in Siberia and her memories are linked to cold and snow.

She doesn’t hear anything and even her footsteps sound muffled.

Then she feels a presence behind her.

She already moves to turn around, but then something sharp stings in her neck, and she staggers backwards, grabbing for something to hold—only to find emptiness.

She falls on her bum and shakes her head, a bit dazed.

Her light flickers, and then it keeps shining. She breathes out in relief and remains like that for a few seconds before getting up again.

She touches her neck on the place where something stung, but when she draws her hand back, nothing is on it.

 _Probably just a mosquito,_ she thinks, and with a shrug, she continues on her way.

 

The base is clear and this time they find another room with bodies—it’s not Winter who finds it, though.

When she sees Aryan and Oliver return and spots their faces, she knows immediately something happened.

 

Aryan tells her about it later, when they’re on the quinjet. He fills her in in Estonian, because he doesn’t want the others to know.

“We found more children,” he says, and his voice breaks.

 

She holds him that night until he stops trembling.

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

It starts getting cold in November when Wanda visits Winter in her room one afternoon.

“Hey,” the Sokovian says softly. “Can I come in?”

Winter gestures that she can and pats her bed to make sure Wanda understands she can sit down too.

The girl does, and Winter notices how she’s touching her bracelets and her eyes are flying everywhere and nowhere.

“Breathe,” Winter says softly. “No need to be nervous. I won’t bite your head off.”

They chuckle.

Then Wanda takes a big breath.

 

“I think I have feelings for someone.”

Winter nods.

 _Probably Macy,_ she thinks, but she doesn’t say it aloud. That’s not what Wanda needs right now.

“Well,” the hundred-and-fourteen-year-old woman says, “you can tell me anything.”

Wanda nods and gives her a nervous smile.

“But… it’s a girl.” Winter raises an eyebrow. “Is it now?”

Wanda hesitates, and then nods. Winter places her hand on the Sokovian’s arm.

“What are you afraid of?”

“What if they… what if they don’t accept me?”

“Well,” Winter says, shifting on her bed to look Wanda in the eye. “That’d be stupid. Bucky and Sam are gay and I’m fairly sure some others on our team are also not straight.”

Wanda blinks.

“You know, I get how you’re feeling.”

Winter sighs wistfully. “There was this girl… when I was young. She was… well, it doesn’t matter what she was. I was in love with her and I was scared to admit it at the time because the world wasn’t that accepting.”

 _That, and Hydra would have wiped my memory of it,_ she doesn’t add.

She musters an encouraging smile.

“You don’t have to be afraid that we’re going to throw you out or anything. Love is love.”

Wanda nods, and then smiles. “Thank you, Winter.” She squeezes Winter’s hand and Winter smiles, a little more genuine this time, as Wanda slides off the bed and leaves as quickly as she came.

 

* * *

 

**New York**

Only two months after, they celebrate Christmas with a huge charity gala in the New Avengers Facility 2.0.

Winter goes shopping with Wanda and the other girls for a dress, while Rhodey ensures them that the boys are in safe hands.

 

Winter picks a light blue [dress](https://www.google.nl/search?hl=nl&gl=nl&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=BjfgXIirCKqLmwWkop6IAQ&q=gala+dresses+with+flowers&oq=gala+dresses+with+flowers&gs_l=img.3...27225.31137..31261...1.0..1.62.1299.26......2....1..gws-wiz-img.....0..0i67j0j35i39j0i10j0i30j0i19j0i8i10i30i19j0i8i30i19.IOU164Jpijs#imgrc=4QUhQRXTV4GDFM:) with flowers all over it. It’s one of the most beautiful dresses she’s ever seen, and she strokes the fabric of it when nobody’s looking.

Wanda chooses a simple green [dress](https://www.google.nl/search?q=new+gala+dresses+2019&hl=nl&gl=nl&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwibuJj7w6XiAhWHI1AKHdK9CM8Q_AUIDigB#imgdii=f0ibfT7DMZ3qaM:&imgrc=BHspjHSiESJJdM:) with a waistband with small emeralds embedded in it—it suits her and makes her look like a princess, while Constance goes for a beautiful purple [dress](https://www.google.nl/search?hl=nl&gl=nl&tbm=isch&q=new+gala+dresses+2019&chips=q:new+gala+dresses+2019,online_chips:lace&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjU27PmxaXiAhUJmIsKHem9A2cQ4lYILSgF&biw=1366&bih=657&dpr=1#imgrc=rP76P8MME4yHQM:) with a split and a low-cut neckline and embedded flowers and small stones. Macy spots a beautiful ivory coloured [dress](https://www.google.nl/search?hl=nl&gl=nl&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=oDvgXNvCJ4bqrgT05pzgBQ&q=dress+with+cape&oq=dress+with+cape&gs_l=img.3..0j0i30l6j0i5i30l3.18589.20465..20574...0.0..1.274.1945.6j5j3......1....1..gws-wiz-img.....0..35i39j0i67.D4t73GxPx1Q#imgdii=TRL_rYoR7l3X8M:&imgrc=wlkNtWSzChCgTM:) with a long cape and a train and says that she’s going to buy that one.

Sharon opts for a simple blue [jumpsuit](https://www.google.nl/search?hl=nl&gl=nl&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=7TngXPrlILGymwX786KACw&q=jumpsuit+with+skirt&oq=jumpsuit+with+skirt&gs_l=img.3..0i19l5j0i7i30i19l5.11760.11760..12051...0.0..0.59.59.1......1....1..gws-wiz-img.Rw3x8le0DbU#imgrc=Petf1A8viR3lDM:) with a skirt, while Maria chooses a black one shoulder ruffle [jumpsuit](https://www.google.nl/search?hl=nl&gl=nl&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=8DjgXNSjA4mwrgTp-464Bg&q=gala+jumpsuit&oq=gala+jumpsuit&gs_l=img.3..0l8.2040.3961..4324...0.0..0.50.607.13......1....1..gws-wiz-img.....0..35i39j0i67.2YXYK9ZVj_A#imgrc=JHOvyfMl5ZCcDM:) and a black headband with small pearls.

 

That evening, Winter gets ready in her own room with Wanda, and the two of them chatter about their dresses.

When Winter turns and looks in her mirror, she smiles, admiring her work on her hair. It’s braided into an intricate fishtail braid with all kinds of extra braids, and with about twenty roses in it.

Wanda smiles at her.

“You look like a fairy,” the Sokovian says, while curling her own auburn locks. Winter smiles back. “You look amazing too, Wanda. Don’t sell yourself short.”

It feels nice to have a bit of time for themselves and to be able to enjoy just an evening without anyone trying to kill them.

 

When they step out of the quinjet onto the patio of the Facility, Winter immediately spots the men. They’re all wearing suits and are grinning from ear to ear.

In the corner of her eye, Winter notices Wanda and Macy walking a bit closer together, and she smirks.

Then she looks forward again, where Levi has extended his arm for Constance.

Bucky and Sam are standing close together, and Winter’s smile widens.

It feels good, to be like this.

To smile like she really means it and to feel… to feel good. Comfortable.

_Loved._

 

She notices that Rhodey’s jaw goes slack but ignores him for the time being and gratefully takes Peter’s extended arm.

“You look gorgeous,” the boy whispers. She smirks. “I know.”

He laughs at that, and she turns to look at the others.

Macy is standing by Oliver’s side, and Wanda has taken place at Harley’s side. Maria is standing next to Rhodey and Sharon next to Aryan. Aryan grins at Winter, and she nods at him.

 

When they walk into the ballroom, everybody goes silent.

Sam walks up the stage and gives a short speech, welcoming all of them and thanking them for coming.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he then continues, his face serious, “it is my pleasure to officially introduce you to the New Avengers!”

He turns and points at the Avengers behind them. Aryan gives the crowd a little wave, and everyone starts applauding.

 

* * *

 

By the end of the evening, Winter’s feet are hurting like hell and she’s sitting out on the patio again.

She knows it’s wrong, but she lights up a cigarette anyways. After taking a long drag, she blows the smoke out and watches it fade away in the cool evening air.

A door opens and closes again. She hears footsteps coming closer and then someone sits down next to her. She extinguishes her cigarette and keeps looking up at the sky.

“You… uh… you look beautiful,” Rhodey says softly.

A corner of her mouth curls up. “Thank you. You certainly don’t look wrong yourself.”

A beat of silence.

“Wanda is in love with Macy, isn’t she?”

“You’re observant.”

Rhodey snorts. “Well, I gotta do something with my free time.”

Winter looks at him and smiles. “Glad to know you spend your free time doing useful things.”

He looks at her and gives her a grin. Her heart hammers in her chest, but she tries to ignore it.

“She is.”

“Hmm?”

Winter smiles. “She is in love with Macy. I think, at least. Can’t say I’m that observant.”

Rhodey chuckles. “I know. I… um… it’s good that you’re there for Peter. He really needs it and the most of us can’t really help him. But he seems to trust you. So, that’s good.”

Winter shifts and pushes the fabric of her skirt a bit away to sit in another position—facing Rhodey.

“Yeah. Peter is really sweet. I think all he needs is just a person that’s there for him. You know, like a sister or something. And well…” she shrugs, “Aryan isn’t small anymore, so I like having someone else I can protect.”

Rhodey gives her a warm smile and takes her hand. His touch is warm and comforting, and she leans into his warmth as he puts an arm around her.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Why?” She tilts her head so she can look at him and is acutely aware of how close they are. “Because you found your family.”

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

_I am not wearing heels to a gala again. Ever._

Winter pulls on a big shirt and her fluffy socks before crawling into her bed. The room is silent, and Friday has dimmed the lights to ten percent, so she can’t see much.

Even though, she grabs her sketch book and continues with her drawing of an eye.

 

She’s almost done when someone knocks on her door.

“Winter?”

It’s Peter.

“Come in!” She calls, and he slowly opens the door and steps inside. When she sees his pale face and the tears on his cheeks, she immediately gets up from the bed and wraps him in a warm hug.

He doesn’t cry, but he shivers and wraps his arms tightly around her.

“I had a nightmare,” he whispers. She pulls back and ruffles his hair. “You wanna talk about it?”

He bites his lip and then nods. “Okay. Come on, let me tuck you in.”

She does so, and then sits down next to him. He sighs and lets his head fall back on the pillow.

“I was back in the rubble—you know, the remains of the Compound. A-and Tony was there and then I was Thanos suddenly, and I started killing everyone—”

His voice breaks and he burrows his head in the pillow. She strokes his back. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “It wasn’t real. You didn’t kill anyone, and the battle is over. You’re done, Peter. You’re home.”

He doesn’t answer and she begins to draw circles on his back.

“I could sing for you,” she offers.

He hums and she smiles as she lays down next to him. “Hush, väike beebi, ära tee sõna… Mama ostab sulle pilkava lindu… Ja kui see lollakas ei laulda…”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Sam says as he hands Winter a cup. She takes it from him with a smile and nudges Aryan when Macy passes him the salad. Her brother smiles at her.

“It’s 2025 already. It’s been two years, and I want to toast to our progress and our family. To the Avengers!”

He lifts his glass, and so do the others.

“To the Avengers!” They all repeat.

 

Winter looks around. Everyone looks tired—which isn’t any surprise, since the most of them have been staying up to make calls with the United Nations.

The issue of the countries with new world leaders is huge, and the UN wants the Avengers to step in to help—to which Sam (naturally) protested, because it’s not the Avengers’ job to help countries get up again.

But of course they want to help, and they are willing to do something, as long as it doesn’t involve anything large scale.

So they’re trying to organize a few weeks off Avenging duties to help a few of the countries coming up, like Sokovia and Romania.

Most of the governments want the strong members of the Avengers or Harley and Rhodey, but since both of those men are out on a recon mission, that’s impossible.

Now everyone looks ragged because of all the discussions and debates that they’ve made over the phone. Winter thinks they’re lucky Sam made Friday turn off the internet for at least a day.

 

Suddenly, Friday’s voice sounds through the room.

 _“I have an incoming video from anonymous,”_ the AI says. _“I checked it on viruses but there’s nothing. It appears to be just a video. Do you want me to play it?”_

Sam and Bucky exchange a glance and Bucky nods.

“Do it, Fri,” Sam says.

_“On it.”_

A blue holographic screen flickers on the wall and then it turns black. Then they hear a voice, talking in Russian.

“Subject A’s final experiment has been concluded. She is ready for combat. This is a test video.”

Winter feels her blood freeze in her veins.

The screen flickers and then she sees one of Hydra’s training room. She notices a girl in the middle, with flashing white hair, dressed in a simple black suit.

The camera circles around the room and now Winter sees the Hydra agents standing in circles around her. She tenses in her seat, because she knows what she’s coming. Why can’t she move?

She needs… she needs to get out of here.

The girl has a sword in her hand.

«Начните», the voice says.

Something flashes and then three of the Hydra agents gurgle and grab their throats. Blood spats out, and the girl stands in the middle of the circle, unmoving. Her sword is dripping with blood. She turns, and there is another flash. Another three agents fall to the floor, colouring the mats red with blood.

Winter chokes on her breath, and she runs out of the room.

"Winter!" Sam calls for her. She ignores the sting of tears in her eyes, and sprints up the stairs, to be anywhere but there. 

_Anywhere, anywhere, anywhere. Away from them. Before she can hurt them. Or- or before they will do what everyone does._

 

* * *

 

She doesn't know exactly how long she sits on the roof, but when the sun starts setting, there are tears streaming down her cheeks. 

 _So wrong, so wrong, so wrong,_ she repeats in her head.  _I was- I_ ** _am_** _a monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster._

She chokes on a sob and wraps her arms around her legs, drawing her legs close to her chest. She's sitting dangerously close to the edge, almost falling off. Would she survive it? Would her head split on the stones beneath her?

_Will I finally find rest? Will I ever atone for my sins? For... for what I've done? Can I ever leave behind what they made me... what they made me do?_

 

She thinks about the blood—all the blood,  _so much blood—_ _she_ spilled. She made it spill. She made it splash onto walls and she made it sink into the carpet. 

She thinks about the bodies she left in her wake, not only Hydra or Hydra's enemies, but innocents. Families. Children. 

Hydra never cared about their trails of bodies. Neither did she, until some point. 

 

She registers the sound of a door opening and footsteps coming her way. She tenses immediately, thinks about the variety of reactions she could get. 

 _Monster,_ her mind hisses.  _You're a monster._

Bucky sits down next to her. 

"You're not a monster," he says softly. She doesn't answer and keeps her eyes everywhere but on him. 

"I know what you're thinking. How you can ever leave behind what they made you do and who they made you be. I know it, because I experienced the same."

 _It wasn't the same_ , she wants to say. 

"They brainwashed you," she whispers. "I did it voluntarily."

"No you didn’t,” Bucky says sharply. “You literally grew up with their thoughts drum into your head, Winter, _after_ they erased your resistance from your mind. At some point you just didn't know better."

Now she looks at him. 

"Did you know they killed my parents in front of my eyes? Noah and Dana... they picked us up and ran, and we hid in the forest. We saw them kill our parents. And then... then they shot Noah too. In front of us. And later, when we were already training to be their puppets, Dana wanted to protect me from their experiments. They strangled her and left her body in my cell to show me what would happen if we disobeyed."

Her voice is thick with emotion, and she roughly wipes away her tears. 

"And yet... still I chose them. I could have run. I could have let them kill me, because anything was better than serving them. Instead, I let them make me a monster. They made me drink blood to stay alive and they made me slaughter hundreds to ensure their message would come across. I was nothing more than the Striker. I won't ever be me again. And how could I? I'm a horrible person."

Bucky takes her hands in his. She looks at his metal hand. "You're not a horrible person. You helped Levi hit his target five times a few weeks ago. You helped Harley get a grip on his hand-to-hand combat. You took care of your brother every single time he needed you and when you were the one who woke up with a trauma, you helped him overcome his. What happened in the past stays in the past. If we would judge anyone for their past, none of us would be here right now. It doesn't matter what you did then. It matters what you do  _now."_

He offers her a hesitant smile. "And now you're helping others. Your team, prisoners of Hydra, children they experimented on."

She blinks and realizes her eyes are filling with tears again. 

"And what your blood and DNA consists of doesn't matter either. You're still you. You're still Winter."

He squeezes her hands and she looks at him. 

A beat of silence. 

“My real name is Helena.”

 

* * *

 

A bloodied face.

Eyes filled with fear.

A scream for help.

The glint of a sword in the candlelight.

Blood splattering on the wall.

Eyes pleading for help.

A plead for mercy.

A child—

Winter wakes up screaming. Her hands are clutching her blankets, and her door is thrown open by none other than Oliver, who sleeps in the room across from hers.

His hair is tousled, and he looks more than tired, but he still smiles at her. She takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself.

 _You’re okay,_ she whispers in her mind. _It’s okay. That’s over now, Winter._

She barely notices it when Oliver wraps his arms around her and pushes her back on the bed. She doesn’t notice it when he lays down next to her and stays with her until she falls asleep again.

What she does notice is that she saw their eyes.

Aryan’s. Sam’s…

 

* * *

 

She sleeps with Oliver by her side for four nights in a row. Then Peter. Then Aryan.

When she sleeps alone again, she has another nightmare.

This time, it’s worse.

 

She’s standing in the middle of Hydra’s old training room. The air smells strange, and when she looks down, she notices Aryan laying at her feet. He is clutching her leg and rasping something.

She spots the blood on his clothes, and then she looks around.

When she sees Rhodey sitting against a wall, her breath catches in her throat.

She quickly makes her way over to him and kneels.

“What- what happened?” She asks softly, touching his cheek. His dark eyes turn to her and they widen. Then she notices the anger and fear in it. She feels something in her hand and looks down.

When she sees the bloodied dagger, she screams his name.

 

“Rhodey! Rhodey! Rhodey!”

She shoots up, eyes wide and breath too fast, and she looks around while beads of sweat roll down her forehead.

The door opens and a familiar figure steps into her room. She sobs and Rhodey runs to her side. Before she knows it, she’s curled up in his arms, with her face pressed against his shoulder. He smells a bit like blood and metal—he probably just came back from the mission.

“I killed you,” she croaks. “I killed you. You were- you were gone.”

She chokes on another sob.

“I’m here,” Rhodey whispers. “I’m not dead, Winter. I’m here.”

Her soulmark tingles as he draws circles on her back, but she doesn’t notice.

 

* * *

 

She can’t sleep alone and _god_ she hates it.

She doesn’t- she doesn’t want to sleep alone, and so there is only one solution.

No sleep.

 

And well, she’s a mutant and an enhanced vampire anyways, so she can take a few weeks without sleep.

She remembers a Hydra mission where she had to stay awake for two whole weeks to catch one of her targets.

So.

Coffee and no sleep it is.

(It’s not such a good idea, but it’s not like she’s going to ask them for help, she’s not stupid)

 

* * *

 

It’s been five days without sleep when a quinjet arrives in their backyard.

_Their backyard? Huh._

Winter is the only one awake at the time and runs out of the Mansion to look at the quinjet landing on the grass—effectively scorching it too. She scowls and waits there, with her arms crossed over each other over her chest.

The quinjet opens and out walk a muscled blond and a lean, black-haired man.

The blond is grinning and the other is scowling, but Winter can see that he’s nervous.

For what?

She doesn’t dwell on the question and spreads her fingertips—let’s that enormous surge of power rush through her and calls her lightning to her.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” She asks.

The blond looks at her. “I’m Thor,” he says. “God of Thunder.”

Oh. She lets the lightning out of her grasp and steps forward. “Then he must be Loki. I’ve heard of you.”

“And who are you, fair lady?” Thor asks, already taking Winter’s hand.

“My name is Winter and there is no need to touch me,” she says flatly, pulling her hand away. “Now I would like to know why you didn’t send anyone a message that you were coming.”

“It was a surprise,” Loki says, tone as flat as hers.

She meets his eyes and his eyes suddenly widen. Understanding flashes over his face, and she suddenly understands that this is someone she needs to talk to. This is someone that can understand. And that needs someone as much as she does.

She gives him a warm smile.

“Well, it’s good to see you. The Avengers would be glad to have two members on their side.”

As she leads them over the patio, inside the Mansion, Thor asks, “What year it is, Lady Winter?”

Winter doesn’t turn as she responds, “2025. Two years after the Battle of Earth. Why?”

“It’s been two years?” Loki asks, tone a bit suspicious. Winter nods and shows them the stairs. “Up here are our rooms. We have some spare bedrooms on the third floor that you can use. Yes, it’s been two years,” Winter quickly adds when she turns around.

“But as much as I would love to talk about it, that’s not my place. Why don’t you two seek out your rooms with Friday’s help and we’ll talk tomorrow?”

“That sounds like a wonderful plan, Lady Winter,” Thor says with a smile. “Thank you so much!”

Winter blinks and then the two brothers are walking up the stairs in silence. She stays behind in the dark.

 

* * *

 

It takes her only two days to befriend Loki.

The raven-haired god loves to read, and so Winter is the one who takes him to the library when the other Avengers welcome Thor.

Aryan and Constance are away on another recon mission in France, and so she doesn’t really have many people to talk to. Loki is a welcome distraction.

He is not a talker, but when he does, he spins amazing stories as she lays down on the carpet in the library.

One day, he asks her if she braids her hair.

She pushes herself up on the ground and looks at him. “Sometimes I do,” she says. “But it’s a lot of work since I have so much hair. Do you?”

He smiles at her. “My mother taught me.”

His expression becomes a bit pained, and she shifts closer to him to put a hand on his knee. “You don’t have to talk about it, but if you want to, I’m always here to listen.”

He smiles a tight smile. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Then he adds, “Can I braid your hair?”

 

“My family was killed,” Winter whispers as his fingers start taking lock after lock. He stills but continues as she goes on. “They burned our house to the ground and my brother and sister took us away before they could get to us.”

She leans back and lets her head fall into his lap. “I know what it’s like to feel lost. To feel like nothing is ever going to repair the damage and those memories will never get out and never fade. But then I met these people…” she continues in a softer voice, “that became like a family to me so incredibly quick that it scares me a bit. I don’t want them to be my family. I don’t really want to forget my real family. I just…”

“I get it,” Loki says softly. “But I do think we need to hold on to the people we love with all our might. You never know what might happen.”

Neither of them notices Rhodey standing in a corner, frowning.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t get it,” Loki says. Winter looks up and puts another piece of popcorn in her mouth.

“Me either,” she confesses, and he laughs. “Well, at least I’m not alone anymore.”

She chuckles and shifts a little closer to him. “Never alone.” Then she flops down on his chest and he laughs warmly, wrapping his arms around her.

The movie keeps playing, but Winter is not paying attention to it anymore as Loki starts braiding her hair again.

 

Rhodey walks into the lounge room with a cup of coffee only to see the two laying on the couch. His chest tightens and a sudden flair of anger rushes through him. Then he turns around and leaves, because he doesn’t think he can look at them right now.

 

* * *

 

Winter wipes her mouth and avoids looking at the toilet. The sour smell of vomit already fills her nostrils, but she pushes that away too, already getting up to take a glass of water.

_“Winter, are you alright?”_

“I’m fine,” Winter says, waving the AI’s concerns away. “It’s just morning sick—” she retches again and throws up in the sink. She moves away from it when a sudden flair of pain shoots through her stomach. She groans and grabs the sink with two hands to avoid falling as the pain worsens.

She takes another step, which only hurts more, and sinks down on the cold tiles of the bathroom.

 _Pain, pain, pain, pain,_ is all she can think.

_“Should I call for help?”_

Winter shifts, only for another flash of sharp pain to course through her lower abdomen. She yelps and her hands touch her abdomen, pressing on the skin—which only makes it hurt more.

There are tears burning in her eyes as she lets her head fall back against the wall.

“Rhodey,” she breathes out, even though she doesn’t know why.

(She does)

“Rho—”

 _“Colonel Rhodes is not present in the Mansion right now,”_ says Friday. _“I could—”_

She hears the door to her bedroom open. Then comes Loki’s voice, “Winter?”

“In here,” she calls weakly, and he opens the bathroom door. When he spots her on the floor, he immediately rushes over to her side. He places his hand on her forehead.

“You’re burning,” he says. Then he sniffs and he pulls a disgusted face. “And you vomited. Winter, what’s going on?”

She takes a deep breath as something starts pushing on her chest.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, and then she gasps for breath.

“Can’t… can’t breathe.”

Loki immediately lifts her up and runs out of the bathroom. She dozes off in his arms and puts her head against his chest.

“You’re not going to sleep,” he says, and she wonders faintly why he sounds so panicked.

“Stay awake, Winter, because I’ll kill you if you won’t.”

“Hmm.”

He barges into the medical bay, and Bruce looks up, clearly annoyed. Winter doesn’t see anything else, because the darkness takes her as more pain shoots through her abdomen.

 

When she wakes up, she immediately throws up again, in a bucket that someone holds for her. She coughs and wipes her mouth with her sleeve, before looking up and seeing Helen’s face.

“I’m going to put you on another IV Drip,” the doctor says, “with some antibiotics. Once you stop vomiting, we’re going to put you to sleep to perform a drainage. Are you okay with that?”

“What’s it for?” Winter wants to ask, but she doesn’t get further then, “Wha—” before she retches and vomits again.

“Your appendix ruptured, Winter,” Helen says as she cleans Winter’s mouth with a tissue.

“It’s not that bad because your body is working full-time on healing it, but we need to take all the pus out of your body and possibly remove your appendix too. It’s going to be a long surgery, but you’re a healthy person, so I think you’re going to be fine.”

“And what happens if you don’t?” She croaks.

Helen grimaces. “You could die. The bacteria is already infecting your body, and if it goes on like this, there is a very big chance that you could die.”

Winter nods.

“Would you mind taking off your shirt? I’m going to get you the IV, alright?”

Winter does as she’s asked and pulls on the hospital gown that Helen put on the seat next to her bed.

When she turns, she spots Loki standing a bit further away. He waves at her and she smiles back.

 

“The others are worried about you,” the raven-haired god says as soon as the IV’s in her arm. He is holding her hand and his other hand is combing through her hair.

She blinks.

“Dr. Cho didn’t want them here, though. Said that they could affect you with nerves.” Loki almost smiles.

“What about Aryan?”

“Friday already informed him,” Loki says. “He is worried, but I assured him I would take care of you for the time being.”

Winter nods and puts her head back on the pillow.

She blinks. It’s been a while since she and Aryan had a few minutes alone. Maybe she can arrange something with Sam or Bucky. They are family, after all, and family must stick together. Especially in times like these.

 

* * *

 

Winter wakes up a few days later—after the surgery—to a pair of voices.

“You should let me see her.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“You don’t get to decide for her, Loki.”

“I’m her friend.”

“And I want to see her.”

“You weren’t there when she needed you,” Loki snaps, “so you have don’t have any rights to make demands right now.”

Winter blinks, confused. Who is he talking to?

“I made the promise to take care of her. So leave, Rhodes.”

She wants to say something—do something—but when she tries, all the energy flows out of her body and she falls back asleep.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up again, Aryan sits by her bedside. He looks tired and has a bruise blooming on his cheekbone, but he smiles when he sees her, and that’s enough reassurance for her.

She bites her lip and pushes herself up on the bed to hug him tightly.

“I thought you were going to die,” he whispers in her ear. She pulls back and wipes his tears away with her thumbs. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.” That elicits a smile and he hugs her again.

It feels nice to be like that with him—he brought her sketchbook with him, and a book for himself. She draws and he reads, and it’s as easy as breathing.

It makes her feel like a little girl again—five years old and in father’s study room, on the carpet with Dana and Noah.

And for once, it doesn’t make her want to cry.

 

* * *

 

**Golden City**

They visit Wakanda; it’s the first time Winter sees it.

She doesn’t even try to hide her amazement as Loki falls into step with her. “The kingdom of Wakanda,” he muses. “With a young king at its head. He’s thirty-seven years old, did you know that?”

“How do you know that?”

Loki smirks. “I have my connections.” Winter laughs and lets him wrap an arm around her.

 

They meet the king of Wakanda in the palace itself. He is surrounded by his guards—the Dora Milaje, as Bucky calls them.

One of them is a beautiful woman dressed in the same suit but adorned with gold instead of silver—Winter figures that means she’s a higher rank.

The king’s name is T’Challa, and he greets them all like old friends. Which, in Bucky’s case, is certainly so. He spreads his hands and welcomes the New Avengers to Wakanda.

Then his eyes land on Winter, and she almost shivers under those intense eyes.

He’s strikingly handsome, and his eyes are pools of brown, filled with understanding and compassion. He looks fit to be a king, and she understands how heavy the burden must be that he carries on his shoulders alone.

So she offers him a hesitant smile, one that he returns in fervour. He strides forward and takes her hand; he kisses it, which she’s sure is not a Wakandan gesture, judging from the looks on everyone’s faces.

“Especially to you,” he says, and his voice is deep and smooth—filled with passion.

 

He takes them on a stroll through the palace to show them all their rooms.

When they stand by Winter’s door, she notices they’re all alone. He smiles at her.

“I would love for you to join me on a tour around the palace this evening,” he says. She smiles at him. “You’re a kind man, your majesty.”

“Please, call me T’Challa.”

That must mean something.

She nods instead of raising her eyebrows in surprise like she wants to. “I’ll see you, T’Challa.”

Then she steps inside the room and forgets all about the handsome Wakandan king when she sees it.

“Wow,” she breathes out. She steps forward and takes in the round bed on a heightened floor—the huge closet made of wood, the plants and the windows that reach the ceiling. Wakanda is a modern country with a lot of new technology, but they seem to be able to mix tradition and technology in just the right ways. It’s beautiful.

 

* * *

 

T’Challa waits for her by her room that evening. When she steps out, dressed in a thin Wakandan dress, he smiles at her. She looks around, searching for any other faces. The Dora Milaje are nowhere to be seen.

“The others didn’t come?”

“Most of them already know the palace,” the king answers. Winter nods. “Alright. Show me the way.”

T’Challa is a kind man. He’s very charming, she realizes while they’re walking. And fun. They pass his sister’s room and he tells her about the time she made him a new suit and he hit it—only to be blasted away.

She can only imagine what that must have looked like—hilarious—and they both laugh when she says she would have loved to see that.

He’s filled with love and passion for his country. The way he talks about his people and about his family… it makes her a bit nostalgic.

When he drops her off at her room again, he kisses her hand in goodbye and leaves her alone in the dark hallway.

 

She doesn’t sleep that night.

 

The days pass as most of the Avengers stay in the princess’ labs while they’re searching for Hydra and calculating the odds of taking the organization down.

They don’t really need Winter’s help, and even though Bucky hasn’t said it, she knows it. But she doesn’t really mind it that much.

T’Challa sends her flowers and a few poems—which she receives with a blush (a blush!).

He appears to take off as much time as he can from his kingly duties and walks with her through the palace or tells her stories while they sit outside, taking in the sun.

When he’s not available, she is joined by general Okoye, the head of the Dora Milaje, who turns out to be a lot more fun than she looks like.

Winter even trains with her and the other Dora and finds out there’s a lot more to the fighting world that she doesn’t know.

It’s fun and carefree and lets her take her mind off the heavy important things for a while.

 

When she receives a box one night and opens it to reveal a beautiful necklace, she suddenly realizes what’s happening.

_He’s courting me._

 

The next morning, she takes Aryan and Constance with her to spar, and they spend the rest of the day laughing outside, exploring the city and talking to the people.

She sees T’Challa at dinner that evening, when he joins the Avengers with his family.

He catches her eye from the other side of the room and gives her a smile. She notices the way his eyes trail over her neck—she’s wearing the necklace he gifted her—and his smile widens.

When everyone stands up to leave, T’Challa asks if he can escort her back to her chambers. She notices that his bodyguards stand back and watch them leave, and faintly wonders where this is going to lead.

They stop in front of the door, and it seems like he wants to say something.

“I’m an outsider,” she says softly before he can, “We can’t start anything too serious.”

“I know,” he whispers, and she sees in his eyes that he’s nervous, “I wish there was another way.”

She tries to smile at him. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

Winter almost laughs but reminds herself in time that he’s just a man and that he needs a little reassurance.

“I would love nothing more,” she answers, and then he carefully takes her face in his hands and leans forward.

His lips are soft and nothing like she imagined. He’s not forceful or possessive—but gentle and calm, asking for consent before doing anything.

His tongue traces the seam of her lips and she readily gives him entrance. His hands trail over her body before he whispers, “We should take this inside. If you want to.”

She immediately nods and he pushes the door open before he lifts her up. She wraps her legs around his torso and lets him carry her inside.

Then he kisses her again, and she forgets about everything around her.

 

The next morning, she finds herself in the lab with the others.

“Hydra performed experiments on people,” princess Shuri ponders. Winter’s fingers brush over her soulmark—the soft tingling feeling makes her a bit calmer.

“And yet we still don’t know what they were trying to retrieve,” Bucky says. “They were very careful in erasing their files and the people who worked on them.”

He doesn’t look at Winter, but the assassin lowers her head anyways. That’s partially her fault.

“So what do we do? We keep finding bases with rooms full of dead bodies. It looks like they’re planning something,” Sam says.

Maria folds her arms over her chest and looks at the hologram of the earth before them, with red dots that indicate Hydra’s bases.

“They could be building an army,” says Rhodey.

“At least they’re trying to,” Sharon pipes up.

Winter decides it might be time for her to join the conversation. She steps forward. “If they had succeeded, we would have noticed. Hydra can be discreet if they want to, but it’s not like we wouldn’t notice it if anything happened.”

The others nod, seemingly agreeing with her statement.

“But maybe they’re preparing for a large-scale attack,” Levi ponders. Winter shares a look with Aryan, who rolls his eyes. The corner of her mouth curls up.

“Hydra isn’t like that,” Constance says. “They’re not like that. They go slow and sneaky; the same way they tried to infiltrate SHIELD.”

It stays silent for a few seconds.

“But that still leaves the most important question unanswered,” Sam says.

Everyone turns to him.

“What are they doing to those kids?”

 

She sleeps in T’Challa’s bed that night, even though all they do is sleep.

Okoye and the other Dora Milaje pretend they don’t notice her at all—something which Winter is more than grateful for.

 

It doesn’t take long before others arrive too—the Guardians of the Galaxy, as they call themselves, for new supplies and fuel.

Nebula is an incredible opponent, and Winter is more than happy to take her on to test her strength.

She doesn’t use her powers—she doesn’t really use them a lot anyways—and relies solely on her sword-fighting skills.

 

When they stop, both heaving and sweating, she hears a soft applause.

“Bravo, bravo!” A voice calls out, and Winter turns to look at their little audience. She sees princess Shuri standing amongst them, and Rhodey and Sam, but then she looks down to where the voice came from and notices a racoon-like creature standing in front of her. He grins.

“You’re good. Don’t think you could take me on, though.”

“Are you a sharpshooter?”

He smirks at her. “How’d you know?”

“I was one myself. Want to have a match?”

 

She wins—to nobody’s surprise.

Rocket, as he introduced himself, then latches himself onto her side and seems intent on not letting go as he praises her and loads her with compliments.

If she notices the surprise and the raised eyebrows, she doesn’t say—but she does understand that this isn’t something he does a lot.

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

When they return from Wakanda to stay in the Mansion again, Winter notices the glances exchanged between Macy and Wanda.

She doesn’t say a word about it—lets them decide when to tell the team about their involvement.

Which they do, a few mornings later.

 

Winter’s in the kitchen with a glass in her hands—it still feels a bit weird to be able to drink blood in front of the team, so she’s chosen a glass through which nobody can see the liquid inside—when Wanda and Macy walk in.

They’re holding hands and blushing furiously.

Winter gives them both a warm smile that she hopes is also reassuring.

“Good to see you two this morning,” she greets them. Wanda nods at her.

Everybody else just says their greetings as if nothing is going on, and Winter is positive that she hasn’t ever seen Macy smile like that.

 

* * *

 

**Tony’s Ithaca lakeside cabin**

The team decides to take a few days off to visit the lakeside cabin where Pepper and her daughter live to celebrate Easter—and they invite some others too.

 

Winter is absolutely not disappointed when she sees T’Challa again, even though all she does is give him a smile and a handshake. He holds on a bit longer than he must, and he squeezes her hand. She reads the words in his eyes and gives him a nod before turning away from him and greeting the Sorcerer Supreme and an older man that looks a lot like Steve Rogers.

 

They have brunch outside in the sun, close to the lake.

Harley and Peter play soccer not far away from them while Constance plays with Morgan by the lake.

Winter sees Pepper and Rhodey’s friend Happy sitting not far away from them, talking softly.

 

After the brunch, Winter sits down by the lake on her own and lets the water cool her feet for a while as the sun strokes her face.

“This is where their funerals were,” Rhodey then speaks up from behind her.

He sounds emotional, and she lets him sit down next to her.

“We stood on the dock for Tony’s, and here for Nat’s. Wreaths and photographs were all we had at the time.”

She doesn’t look at him even though she wants to—she’s not sure if she can take it.

He sniffles.

“They deserved that,” she then says. “A goodbye from the people they loved the most.”

 

She takes T’Challa’s invitation later and visits his room that night.

Aryan sees her, but only gives her a smile and continues with his conversation.

 

Suddenly, it feels incredibly domestic.

Winter wakes up and makes coffee for herself and for the others, and she steps out on the veranda to enjoy the early morning sun as Sam and Bucky return from their jog.

She sees Constance and Macy working out on the field close to the cabin, and Harley sitting on the dock with Rhodey.

It feels like this is normal—like this is how it’s always supposed to be.

T’Challa appears on the veranda next to her and wraps his arms around her. His warm chest is pressed against her back and she’s glad they’re standing away from prying eyes—any eyes, for that matter.

“I wonder what it’s like to be normal,” she sighs, and then she immediately wishes she hadn’t said it.

“There is no such thing as normal,” T’Challa answers philosophically. She turns around to face him and reaches up to caress his cheek.

It’s an odd movement, and it feels slightly out of place.

“Maybe there isn’t,” she agrees, and then she lets him pull her back inside while her coffee goes cold.

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

When Loki and Thor leave again, Winter cries, even though she denies it later.

She says goodbye to him in her room, away from anyone who wants to listen in.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she admits as she stands in his arms. He runs his hands up and down her arms.

“You’re not alone, Winter,” he tells her. She looks up to meet his eyes and smiles tightly.

“It’s different with you. You… you understand me, Loki. They don’t. Not really.”

“They want to try,” he says softly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She hesitates, then nods.

 

She stands outside as the two brothers load their stuff into their jet, and she stays outside long after the jet is gone.

“It’s not a goodbye,” Thor said to her. “We’ll be back. And you will always be there, Lady Winter.”

Thor is smart, she realizes. He’s more than just good looks and a sunshine personality, and suddenly she feels a bit sorry that she didn’t get to know him better.

But then again, Loki is also incredibly smart, and she likes him just as much.

_You can’t always have what you want._

* * *

They meet Scott Lang and Hope van Dyne only days later, when the former superheroes visit the Mansion on Sam’s birthday.

Hope is an intelligent woman with a nice sense of humour—she pranks Harley together with Peter—while Scott is a bit clumsy but incredibly adorable in his own way.

Winter trains with the both of them and watches Hope give Aryan a bit of advice about being the Wasp.

Domestic, she realizes again.

It’s incredibly domestic.

 

She’s in too deep now. There’s no going back anymore.

Weirdly enough, she doesn’t feel bad about it.

 

* * *

 

It’s her weekly sparring session with Harley when they decide to take it up a notch.

He in the Iron Man suit, she with her lightning.

They fight outside, and Winter lets the power rush through her and release it all on the field—it’s been a long time since she’s been able to do that, and it feels nice.

But then she hears Harley’s heavy breathing as he sinks to the ground and the faceplate opens. Winter lands too and retracts her power to run over to him.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Can’t… breathe,” Harley whispers. She sees the tears on his cheeks and the evident pain in his eyes.

_He’s having a panic attack. Okay, what to do, what to do, what to d- calm down, Winter. Take a breath._

She sits down next to him and breathes in.

“Follow me,” she says softly. She doesn’t touch him as he whimpers.

“I can’t… I can’t do this, Winter, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

It makes her heart ache, and when his breathing is normal again and he rolls out of the suit, she hugs him tight.

“Yes you can,” she whispers. “You can do this, Harley. It’s okay.”

They both cry.

 

* * *

 

When she’s in her bathroom that evening, her chest suddenly starts hurting.

She stumbles backwards and lands on the floor. Something seems to be pressing on her lungs and she c _an’t breathe—_

Everything hurts and it feels like it’s all just too much.

 _I don’t want to do this anymore,_ flashes through her head.

_This is not who I want to be anymore…_

When she can breathe again, she hears Friday’s soft voice.

_“It appears you’ve had a panic attack, Winter. Do you need me to call anyone?”_

“No,” Winter replies in a small voice, which she immediately hates. “No, thank you, Friday.”

The AI doesn’t push, and lets Winter drag herself out of the bathroom and into her bed.

She doesn’t sleep.

 

* * *

 

**Konsu**

"Okay, why are we doing this in the middle of the night without warning anyone?"

"Because they would stop us." 

"Wow Sam, I had no idea you could be this sneaky," Winter says, and they both chuckle.

"Bucky knows where we're headed. He also knows that if we're not back within twenty-four hours, he needs to come and get us. It's fine, Winter."

"I'm not sure," Winter licks her lips. She reaches up to touch her soulmark. It tingles and makes her body warmer. It reminds her of Rhodey.

She immediately pushes the thought of his smile away and focuses on the katana in her lap. "So," Sam says from the cockpit, "how are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Winter answers immediately. Sam turns around to give her a disbelieving look and she laughs. "I really am, Sam. I'm very lucky that I could be a part of this all, and I'm just... I'm happy that I got a family, 's all." She shrugs and keeps cleaning her katana, while Sam blinks his tears away. 

"You remind me of someone," he says then. She looks up with a questioning look in her eyes but doesn't ask any questions. Sam makes sure the quinjet flies on autopilot before getting up and walking up to where she's seating. 

"We... you know about Nat and Tony, right?" 

She nods and he grimaces. "Well, I didn't exactly know Tony that well... but I knew Nat. We were... we were very good friends. And when she died, or when I heard she died... for me it was like our fight was finally over. Like there was nothing left of the Avengers. Iron Man was dead, Cap and Clint retired and Thor off to journey the galaxy in search of his brother. 

"I thought there was nothing left to fight for, but then... Bucky- and I- I remembered something Nat once told me, about what's really worth fighting for. And I remember that she said... she said that it was love. And I laughed, of course, because love is fickle and all, but she told me that she wasn't talking about romantic love. She was talking about family and the love between those members."

He sighs. "She wrote us a letter. They all did, actually, in case anything happened. And in her letter, she told us- or me, that we had to write another story. Another happy end. And... well, you just remind me of her. Headstrong, really focused on letting zero emotions show and just... I don't know."

"I get it," Winter says then. He looks up at her. "I think I would have liked her." Sam laughs through his tears. "Yeah, I think you would. I think she would have really liked you too."

 

* * *

 

**Russia**

"You said you were sure it was deserted!"

"Aryan and I took care of making sure it was! But that was six years ago!" 

Winter shoots again and the last Hydra agent falls. She knows it's only a matter of time, though, before others will show up. They truly live up to their motto. 

She grits her teeth as Sam leans on her. His leg is bleeding, and she helps him limp away from the dead bodies.

"I know another way out," she whispers. "It's a bit deeper—” "Who do we have here?"

She turns around immediately, to face down the barrel of a gun. 

"Welcome back, белая бабочка."

 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault." Sam sighs. "You couldn't have known, Winter. You haven't been here in years."

Winter sighs too and leans against the cold wall behind them. "'m just glad they're not torturing us. Or questioning us."

"They don't really need to," Sam interjects. "They know why we're here anyways."

 

It stays silent for a few minutes. 

"Tell me about Natasha."

"She was an amazing singer. Nobody commented on it, though." Sam laughs a laugh devoid of any humour. "We were scared to death of her sometimes. But she was a really good singer."

He sighs. "Before we started running, we stayed with the entire group for a short time. And once she was in the living room and she was singing this Russian lullaby, and then Bucky walked in and honest to god, we thought he was going to interrupt her and you should have seen Steve's face—anyways, he joined her. He actually has a pretty sweet voice, and sometimes... sometimes when I can't sleep, he sings the same lullaby to me.” He smiles.

“And then Clint walked in, and he immediately turned around. He later told me it was because two of the scariest people he knew were singing together, and I quote, 'Hell nah man'." 

Winter laughs softly. "That sounds like a fun memory."

"It was."

A beat of silence and Sam shuffles around until his shoulder is pressed against hers. 

"Tell me about you and Aryan."

 

Winter stays silent for a long time and he's almost worried she's not going to answer and shit, he did it wrong, didn't he—

"One time," she starts with a soft voice, "we were in Hollywood for one of our extractions. And we had been sitting in the rain for hours, and let me tell you, that is not fun." There is a smile in her voice. "We went for pancakes afterwards. The woman at the diner was the kindest we'd ever met, and I think I cried afterwards. She called me... she called me a puppet. My mom used to call me that."

She sighs and leans against Sam. Carefully, he lifts an arm to wrap it around her. 

"I'm just really grateful for all of you," she whispers. He turns his head to press his lips against her hair. "I'm glad we got you too."

 

* * *

 

When Rhodey and Bucky barge into the facility, it looks abandoned. They only encounter five agents, which they immediately knock out or kill—in Bucky’s case—and tie up to leave in the hallways. 

They search every single cell for any people, and eventually end up by the last one. There are no other sounds and the silence is a bit creepy, but the two men slam the door open before anything could happen. 

Rhodey steps in first, with his gun in front of him, looking around. 

When he spots Sam on the ground in front of him, he sighs in relief. "Where's—” he asks, but he doesn't get any further than that. A female jumps out of the shadows and presses a needle in his neck. 

Bucky immediately slams the female agent into the wall, and she stays down, while Rhodey slumps to the ground, unconscious. 

"Where's Winter?" Bucky asks with a gruff voice. On the com link he can hear Sharon and Maria talking, but he turns it off immediately. Sam carefully gets up and points at a dark figure on the ground. 

"What- why is she on the ground?"

"They knocked her out. I couldn't... I couldn't sit next to her." Sam lifts Winter off the ground while Bucky tries to lift Rhodey. It doesn't go smoothly, but it works, and when they step out of the facility Sharon is there to help him carry Rhodey into the quinjet. 

 

Sam sits next to Bucky on the flight back while Maria treats his wounds. 

"They didn't do anything to you, did they?" Bucky asks. Sam shakes his head. "They... um... they said some things to Winter. In Russian or Romanian or something else. I don't know... she... she's all closed off again. Wouldn't even look me in the eye." He sighs. "Now we have to start all over again."

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

Winter knows it might be a bit unfair towards the others, but she locks herself in her room for days.

The first day she’s more than exhausted, and just lazes around in bed—she doesn’t actually sleep, though.

The second day she takes her medallion out of her drawer and twirls it in her fingers, reminding herself of her true family—Noah, Dana and her parents, that were all taken away from her.

 _These people,_ she thinks, _these people are **not** my family. _

_“You see, little butterfly, they will not help you. They are not your family, because nothing belongs to you. You don’t have any family. And if you think—”_

She screams and claws at her head to get those voices out, out, _out!_

 

When she lies on the floor later, she cries.

 

The third day she finds a plate with food in front of her door. She looks at it and then closes her door again.

She rummages through her closet and finds her old duffel bag. Without any further ado, she takes out the photographs.

One of them is partially burned and shows Dana and Noah and herself. Her thumb trails over their laughing faces.

 _I wish they had killed me too;_ she thinks sombrely.

 

On the fourth day someone knocks on her door. She doesn’t answer and stays seated on her carpet with a bottle of vodka in her hands. She’s not sure when she had the time to put that in her closet, but she’s glad that she did.

She takes another gulp and lets the alcohol slide into her throat—then she wishes that it affects her. That it makes her drowsy and drunk and makes her happy even though she’s not. That it makes her forget.

But she can’t forget.

She won’t ever forget.

 

* * *

 

She starts training again after two weeks, but she keeps away from the team as much as she can.

She doesn’t join in on movie nights and she ignores Aryan when he asks for her to join them for dinner.

 

She is like before. That monster—that killing machine that she always hated.

Only now she embraces it—now she’s glad she can switch her emotions off and focus on her movements instead of her head.

If only everything could be that simple.

 

* * *

 

**Chili**

A few months later princess Shuri sends them another signal of a Hydra base hidden in the mountains in Chili.

Bucky rounds up the other Avengers and they take off in one of the quinjets.

 

The facility looks like any other—incredibly normal and empty, just like all the others they’ve already cleared. But something’s wrong—everyone can feel it. The air is thick with tension and there’s something… something indescribable going on.

The Hydra agents catch them completely off-guard.

 

* * *

 

When Winter wakes up, she's in a cold cell. Her arms are bound together above her, hanging from some sort of chain on the wall. After a quick glance around, she sees she's in a cell with Constance, Oliver and Rhodey.

Her head hurts like hell and she's bleeding, but she pushes it all to the background. 

_Where are the others? Are they hurt? Did they get away?_

 

When she hears a soft grunt, her eyes flick to the side, where Constance pushes herself up on the floor. 

"Good," Winter says. "You're awake." 

Constance looks around, and then notices Winter tied to the wall. "What the hell?" She whispers. "How the... why did they tie you up like that?"

Winter makes the bad decision to shrug, which hurts like hell. She bites on her tongue to keep herself from yelling. 

"I have no idea," she says softly. "The others are still asleep."

A beat of silence.

Then Constance stands up and moves over to Winter. Her fingers touch Winter's arms, which are turned up in an uncomfortable position. Winter hisses and the place where Constance touches her feels like it's burning. 

"Sorry," the girl squeaks. "Just want to make sure you're okay. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling pretty okay for someone who got chained up. Why don't you wake the others?"

 

Soon enough Oliver is awake too, and Rhodey is pushing himself up from the floor. When he spots Winter, his eyes widen. He opens his mouth to say something but is cut off by a rattle in the corner. Everyone looks at the corner, where a big metal door opens and reveals a dimly lit hallway. In the door opening stand two men in uniform. 

Winter can't see their faces and she's honest to god very glad she can't, because she doesn't really want to. 

"What did you do to us?" Oliver asks, voice low and threatening. One of the men chuckles. Then he says something to his companion that Winter can't understand, and they step into the cell. 

Constance immediately charges at them, but then she howls in pain and falls to the ground. "Constance?" Someone yells on the other side of the hallway. 

Winter's head snaps up when the two men take off her chains and she sags to the floor. One of them picks her up and she starts kicking. "Let her go!" Oliver yells. They yank her out of the cell while Constance clutches her head again and screams in pain. 

"Constance!" Winter yells. It's out of her mouth before she knows it. The two men keep pulling her with them, but she's struggling. A wave of pain rushes through her body and she almost collapses, but she remains standing. "You bastards," she says through gritted teeth. 

They hold her tight as they roughly shove her into the hallway. Now she notices another metal door, like their own. "Winter! Winter, can you hear me? Winter!"

That is unmistakably her brothers voice. "Aryan!" She yells in response. "Aryan! Get them out of here!" The men hit her, and she yelps. 

"Stay away from her!" She hears someone else yell, and she's not entirely sure who it is. Her body heats at hearing the voice and then she remembers that night she woke up in the Mansion with that warm voice next to her. Rhodey?

They keep walking and she keeps struggling, but for some reason they are too strong for her. 

 _This doesn't make sense,_ she thinks. 

"No, no, no!" She yells as they pull her into another hallway, and she can see bloodstains on the wall. "No!!"

 

* * *

 

She doesn't know how long she's been lying on the metal table in the lab, but she knows it's long. She is shivering all over even though she doesn't experience cold like normal humans do—which also means that these people know exactly what they're dealing with. And that scares her a lot more than she'd like to admit. 

The door opens with a squeak, and then she hears a muffled shout. She starts struggling against the chains that are holding her in place, but as soon as her skin touches them it burns. She almost yells out in pain but reminds herself to bite her tongue instead. She can feel blood dripping in her mouth as she tries to relax on the cold table again. 

She turns her head to the other—empty—table, where she sees that the men put down a struggling body. 

 _Rhodey! Rhodey, shit no,_ she thinks. She starts struggling against the chains again, and the men look at her as she grits her teeth. The pain is almost unbearable, and it seems like whatever is on those chains is burning her skin away. They start laughing as they chain Rhodey down. 

One of the men walks to the back and comes back with something that look awfully much like a whip. "No, no!" Winter yells. "Don't you dare hurt him," she hisses in Romanian, hoping they understand. They turn to her with malicious grins. "Don't touch him or I swear I will rip your heads off your fucking bodies, and you'll be sorry you were even born."

"Are you protecting him, little butterfly?" One of them asks. He is a bit fatter than his companion, and Winter names him Fatty in her mind. The other will be Skinny. She forces herself to smile at them. "Don't you know me? The White Butterfly? Or the Striker?"

"We know, we know," Skinny says. Fatty tsk's. "Well, if you're really so opposed to us touching your boyfriend, then we'll start on you."

Winter tenses on the table as they walk up to her. Skinny rips her suit open and exposes her chest. She squirms as he starts touching her. "Now, now, lay still, will you?" Fatty laughs as he presses something sharp against her stomach. She doesn't look and keeps her eyes on the dark ceiling. 

A beat of silence. 

And the whip comes down on her body. She bites on her lip to avoid screaming out in pain as the hooks on the leather rip open her skin. "Winter!" Rhodey yells, voice distraught. Winter turns her head to him and says, "It's okay-  _ah!"_

The whip comes down again and again, and she wants to move—her whole body wants her to move, away, away from that weapon. 

She screams the next time it comes down—she just can't help it. 

"Winter! No, stop that, stop doing that to her!" Rhodey starts to move on his table, and Winter heaves. Flairs of pain course through her body as she breathes in and out, and she barely holds in a sob as hot tears start streaming down her cheeks. 

Something hot and sharp presses against her supraclavicular [fossa](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supraclavicular_fossa) and she hears Fatty chuckle. "Your boyfriend wants us to stop, do you hear that, butterfly?" He asks. Winter looks at him in rage. "Don't you dare," she hisses. He smiles down at her and then presses the knife harder into her skin. She gasps and then he twists the knife deeper and she howls in pain. 

"Stop that!" Rhodey yells. "Take me, take me, but please don't hurt her, please," he sobs. Winter frowns in confusion. _What in the world is he saying?_

Then her chains click open and someone puts a hand against her throat, effectively pinning her against the table. 

"Come on," Skinny says with a smile, and he lifts her up. 

She struggles against his touch, but he simply closes his hand tighter around her throat. She gasps as Fatty chains her against the wall again. Her knees buckle and she almost falls, only held up by her arms. Something cracks inside her body, and she chokes on a sob. 

"Don't you cry, little butterfly," Fatty says on a sweet tone that makes her shiver. He puts the knife against her leg and then moves it down in a swift motion. She yelps as warm fluid starts streaming out of the gash on her leg. He moves away and smiles. Now she notices Skinny moving to Rhodey, and she starts struggling against the chains. But it appears that what they put on those other chains are on these too, and she yelps again. 

Fatty laughs. "That hurts, doesn't it, little butterfly? Shall I share the secret with you? It's a special poison created by Dr. Zola, especially for you.”

She feels all the blood leave her face as he cackles and moves away. "Don't you dare!" She yells. "Don't—” she stops talking when Fatty rips Rhodey's shirt open and puts his bloodied knife against Rhodey's skin. 

"You could offer us something in exchange for saving his life," Skinny says slowly. Winter's eyes widen. _What in the world does he me- oh no. Oh no, no, no._  

"I-" she starts, but she's interrupted by Fatty's dark chuckle. "Too late," he says, and he cuts into Rhodey's skin. The soldier doesn't make a single sound and doesn't move an inch, which Winter silently respects a lot. 

"No, no, no," she whispers. "No, stop that! Stop touching him- you fucking bastard!"

She yanks against the chains again and this time slams her back into the wall. It hurts like hell, but something cracks inside the wall. 

Skinny tsk's and takes a syringe from another table. It's filled with a light purple liquid. Winter's eyes widen in horror. "What are you doing?" She asks. Fatty gives her a grin as he slides the knife down Rhodey's chest. He presses a little harder and Rhodey yelps. "Just a project," Fatty says, and Winter can only watch as Skinny slowly slides the needle into Rhodey's neck. Rhodey heaves but doesn't move. 

Then Skinny presses the plunger, until the barrel is empty. Rhodey doesn't make a sound and turns his head to her. His eyes are glazing over, and Winter doesn't move anymore. Her lips are pressed together in a thin line and instead of pain there's only anger coursing through her veins. 

"You... what did you do?" She asks weakly as Fatty removes her chains. She falls on the ground and doesn't bother getting up. They yank her up and Skinny smiles at her but doesn't give her an answer. 

"Please," she whispers. "I'll do anything. I swear, I'll do anything. I will even work for you if you want to, kill all your enemies, but please, please don't touch him anymore."

"Oh, we won't," Fatty says darkly, and then everything turns black. 

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up, she's lying in an empty cell. She immediately gets up and ignores the burning in her stomach. She looks at her hands and finds that her arms and hands are covered in blisters and thicker patches of skin. 

 _Second degree burn,_ her mind supplies. 

She moves her hand and finds it only tingles a little. Then she bangs on the wall. "Aryan!" She calls out. "Constance! Constance! Aryan! Aryan!"

For a moment, it stays silent. Then there comes a weak voice from far away. "Winter!"

It's undoubtedly Aryans. "Aryan!" She calls back in full force. "Winter! Winter, are you okay?" "I'm fine!" She calls back, gritting her teeth as her hand touches her still bleeding stomach. There is no response, and she leans against the wall, sinking to the floor. 

_What now? How are we going to get out of here?_

_Are we ever going to get out of here?_

_We must,_ she immediately thinks.  _Sam must have already sent a distress signal to SHIELD. And otherwise they'll find out we're gone. They'll find us. They must._

It's the last thing she thinks before the darkness takes her again. 

 

* * *

 

She wakes up again when she hears gunshots and screams. Her head is a bit foggy and her view is a bit blurry, but overall, she feels okay. Her stomach is still hurting, and her leg is tingling, but it's not an overtaking pain like it was before. 

She groans and turns her head. Nothing but darkness around her. Only the gunshots outside accompany her. 

_Does that mean they found us?_

 

She drifts away again when the door of her cell bangs open. A familiar blonde stands in the door opening, holding two guns. 

"Winter!" She calls out, shocked and surprised. 

"Constance," Winter slurs. Constance kneels next to her and looks at her stomach in horror. "My god," she whispers. "What did they do to you?"

"Rhodey," Winter whispers. "Where is he? Is he... is he okay?"

Constance ties something that resembles cloth around her breasts to protect her modesty and then pulls her up. "Rhodey is unconscious in the first jet going back home. He... he looks pretty bad."

 _I failed. I failed to protect him;_ Winter wants to say. Instead, she says, "It's my fault."

"No it's not," Constance immediately responds. Another figure appears in the door opening. 

"Constance? Winter?" Sam asks, tone hopeful. "We're here," Constance says. "You'll need to keep the hallways free for us."

"No need," Bucky says from behind Sam. Winter can't see him, but she's glad he's there. Constance carefully helps her out of the cell, into the hallway. "We- oh. Winter..." 

Winter doesn't respond when Constance's arm is replaced by Bucky's metal one, and he carefully lifts her up in his arms. She hisses out in pain and he mumbles an apology in Russian. 

"We need to.... here. .... jet is.... side..." her head lolls backwards and everything fades away again. 

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

She wakes up in a bed in the medical bay. There are several people sitting around her bed and one of them is holding her hand. 

 _We're okay,_ she thinks.  _Safe. Home. Where—_

_Rhodey!_

She shoots upright, eyes wide and frantically looking around to find Rhodey. She spots him in another bed not far away from her own, and already moves to get out of her bed when a strong hand presses her back. 

"Don't, Winter. You need to rest."

She looks up at Bucky, who is wearing a worried expression. "I'm fine," she says, voice hoarse. "Really."

He lifts an eyebrow and then a jolt of pain courses through her body, leaving her gasping on the bed. "That's what I thought," Bucky says dryly. "You need to rest, Winter. Lay down. I'll get Bruce for you."

Winter lays down as he walks away, leaving her alone with Aryan and Constance. Both are looking at her with worry in their eyes. 

"I'm fine," she huffs. "I'll be up in two days again—” "We heard you scream," Aryan says softly. Winter falls silent. "Bruce thinks they injected something into Rhodey's body, but he doesn't know what," Constance continues. "Do you have any idea?"

"It was purple," Winter answers, swallowing away her feelings, "some purple liquid or something. They... they injected it into his neck and then he fell asleep or something. I don't know, I couldn't look."

"Hmm. I'll tell Bruce about that." Constance leaves and leaves Aryan behind. Aryan sighs. "You were begging for them to stop. To spare him. Winter..." "It's not important," Winter says abruptly. "It's not... it's not like he reciprocates my feelings. I'll just... we'll be fine, Aryan."

"No," Aryan says, taking her hand. "I know you will. And I'm not against your feelings for him, Winter. You deserve happiness too. Really." He squeezes her hand and she turns her head to look at Rhodey. He is sound asleep. By his bed side sit Sharon, Sam and Pepper Potts-Stark. She is holding Rhodey's hand, sobbing softly. Winter quickly turns her head away again. 

"He has someone," she whispers to Aryan in Estonian. He grimaces. "I'll get you some blood," he says, and then he's gone. Winter sighs and lets her head fall on her pillow. 

 

* * *

 

It takes time, but she heals properly and eventually gets out of the medical wing to jump back into training.

Rhodey remains in the medical bay, still unconscious. She visits him every Friday.

 

On a clouded Friday she walks into the medical bay only to see Bruce and Helen standing by his bed, murmuring to each other.

“I don’t understand,” she hears Helen say, clearly confused.

Winter steps closer.

“What don’t you understand?” She asks.

The world-renowned geneticist steps away from Rhodey’s bed and lets Winter through. Winter frowns and steps closer, to inspect Rhodey herself.

“What in the…” she mutters as her eyes go wide at seeing Rhodey’s… much younger face.

“That liquid you told us about did something to him; but I’m not sure what. His vitals are higher than ever, and he seems in a perfectly healthy condition—for a thirty-year old, that is.”

“But Rhodey’s not thirty years old,” says Helen. Bruce nods.

“He looks so much younger,” Winter whispers. She reaches out to touch his face but retracts her hand at the last second.

“I don’t have the right materials here to conduct research,” Helen says softly. “I’ll have to take him to my own lab in South-Korea.”

Silence.

Winter stares at the doctor with wide eyes. “South-Korea?” She whispers. Helen nods. “But Rhodey is in no condition to travel long distances, so we’ll have to wait until he’s completely recovered. That could take weeks.”

 _Or days,_ Winter’s mind supplies. _What if… what if they made him… like me?_

She doesn’t voice her thoughts, and instead tells Bruce and Helen that she’s going upstairs again.

 

Later, she and Aryan sit on the roof.

“Are you sure?” He asks. Winter puts the bottle against her lips and lets the cold liquid slide into her mouth.

“Not completely,” she answers once she’s swallowed. “It could very well be something else. But… but it seems logical. When they gave me the formula at almost twenty-five, I looked a lot younger than I was. You remember that, right?”

Aryan nods.

“And when they checked my vitals, everything was perfectly healthy for someone a bit younger than me. So, in theory, I was still twenty-five, but my body had reversed back to twenty-one.”

“That could be what happened to Rhodey,” Aryan ponders. “But they could very well have given him something else that makes it seem like he’s okay and that destroys his body on the inside.”

Winter tilts her head up to the sky.

“He did look younger, though.”

“Hmm.”

 

“Helen wants to take him to South-Korea to conduct research. She’s a good geneticist—I’m positive that she’ll be able to find out what’s wrong with him.”

Aryan smiles lightly at her.

“That’ll be his own decision to make, then.”

 

* * *

 

One night, she and Oliver are making dinner for the team. It’s already dark outside and most members are in the lounge room, nursing glasses of wine and talking about everything and nothing.

Winter is not in the mood to mingle with them, so she decides to help Oliver with his preparations.

They put the tart in the oven when Friday says, _“It appears we have two visitors.”_

“Can you get us a visual?” Oliver asks.

Friday projects a screen of one of the cameras around the Mansion, showing them two females standing in front of the door.

Maria enters the kitchen and stops when she sees the screen.

 _“They are not on my list of unwanted visitors,”_ says the AI.

“You can let them in,” Maria says, putting her empty glass on the counter. “Valkyrie is a friend.”

 

The woman with the long brown hair introduces herself as Valkyrie, and the young redhead with her as Dagný Aðakándottir, the new Enchantress.

“Like Amora?” Maria asks, curious. She's perched on the counter, nursing another glass of white wine.

Winter lets her eyes sweep over the woman’s figure. She’s wearing a dark green tunic with black pants and knee-high boots. There is a kind smile on her face, and she looks young, but Winter feels like she isn’t.

“Not like Amora,” Valkyrie laughs. “Dania is nothing like Amora. She possesses the same power, but she does not have the same malicious feelings towards others.”

The woman smiles wider. “My friends call me Dania. I am indeed the Enchantress. I came here to bestow a gift upon you.”

“A gift,” Sam echoes, who just entered the kitchen. Bucky is behind him, obviously sulking about something.

Dania nods. She opens her hand and lets a green ball of energy roll over her fingers.

“You see, I’ve studied magic for many years. You humans have short lifespans—well, most of you do anyways,” she glances at Winter, “but you’ve done so much for this world. I want to thank you.

“So, with the permission of the Norns, I have woven a spell for you. Each of you will get something different, but I assure you that my gift will please you.”

“Okay,” Maria says. “How about dinner first?”

 

They eat it in the dining room. Not everyone is present, though.

Wanda and Levi are on a radio silent mission, and Sam returns to the medical bay to stay with Rhodey.

Dania ensures them that none of that matters—she can reach far enough to make sure her gift reaches everyone. Winter is still unsure of what to think of her. A gift? Why in the world would she do that?

 

“Can we trust her?” Bucky asks Valkyrie after dinner. The new Queen of New Asgard smiles. “Dania has done a lot to restore Asgard. I trust her, and you trust me.” Bucky nods.  _They seem to put a lot of faith and trust into this Valkyrie,_  Winter thinks to herself. She herself is a bit more sceptical but doesn't voice her opinion.

 

It's movie night that night, and Winter curls up with Aryan and Constance on the couch, while Sharon, Valkyrie and Dania stay in the kitchen drinking. 

Winter ignores the laughter and focuses on the movie, tuning out everything else. 

 

Dania leaves late at night with Valkyrie. The two women are laughing as they walk towards their jet, and Winter watches them go from the roof of the house.

 

* * *

 

The next day, she visits Rhodey in the medical bay.

He is still asleep when she sits down and opens her sketch book. She takes a pencil and starts drawing. Silence envelops them until she hears someone clear their throat. Surprised, she looks up. 

Rhodey is looking at her. 

She forces herself to look him in the eye and tries to put on her best indifferent face.

He doesn't seem to notice, and only smiles at her. 

"Hey there," he croaks. The corner of her mouth curls up. His voice is still filled with so much warmth and kindness—even after everything he endured. Because… because of her...

She looks at her sketch book and puts her pencil down. "Sleep well?" She asks, desperately hoping her voice is not betraying any of her emotions. Rhodey nods. "I did, actually. Everything still hurts, but..." he shifts and promptly reaches for her hand. She winces and pulls it away before she can help it. 

"I'll..." she gets up hastily from the chair. "I'll get Bruce for you."

Then she flees, and she hears him call out her name before the door slams shut and she's back in the lab.

 

* * *

 

She finds her gift later that week, when she finishes drying herself and looks in the mirror.

There, she sees a beautiful tattoo curling up on her shoulder blades—the back of a white dragon, with its wings covering her shoulder blades and his body resting in between.

She reaches out to touch it, and it moves a bit.

_What the hell?_

 

When she spars against Bucky the following day, her own daggers slices her wrist.

She drops the dagger immediately and hisses in pain, until, for some reason, the pain disappears. When she looks at her wrist, she notices the same dragon she has on her back is curled around her wrist.

“Wow,” she whispers. Bucky drops his own dagger and looks at it.

“Looks like you’ve got a protection spell,” says Wanda from the side-line. The two former assassins look at her. The Scarlet Witch smiles. “It means that Dania has placed a certain tattoo on your body to ensure that no harm can come to you. When you’re wounded, the tattoo will shield and heal your wound. It’s no simple spell to be done—which means she’s a lot more powerful than we thought.”

“What did you get?” Bucky asks. Wanda smirks and holds up her wrist, showing a thin bracelet.

“It’s a means to channel my energy better. Makes it easier for me to use my powers.”

Winter leaves the two to talk and seeks out her shower because she’s sweating like hell and she seriously needs a bit of hot water on her skin.

 

* * *

 

“I was born in 1909. Had a happy life with my brother and sister.” Winter smiles.

“It was always the three of us—well, at least for the following five years. We had a lot of fun together. Noah would always take me swimming in the lake if the weather allowed it and Dana liked to dance and sing with me.”

A beat of silence.

“Aryan was born in 1916 and he… he was only a year old when Hydra burned our house and killed our parents. We watched.”

Winter laughs a laugh devoid of any humour.

“They caught us only a year later. Noah jumped in front of us to protect us and they shot him. Just like that.”

She swallows. “They brought us to their base and tried to train us—tried to put their ideas into our heads. But Dana was stronger than they were, and she convinced us that what they were doing wasn’t okay. I rebelled and she paid the price for it.”

A sigh.

“After that, it all went so fast. The chair… I still remember what happened next and… and what they did to Dana…” her voice breaks and she puts her head in her hands to hide her tears.

Sam’s warm hand finds her back and draws soothing circles. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he says softly. “I understand that it’s incredibly difficult for you to confide in us about these things.”

“I’ve seen horrible things that still give me nightmares,” she croaks.

“I’m a hundred-and-fourteen years old and I fall in love with someone who doesn’t love me back.”

 

 

Rhodey gets better.

She doesn’t visit him again.

 

* * *

 

**Siberia**

They get another clearance mission.

Siberia is cold, but Winter welcomes it. It’s familiar. Something of her past. She doesn’t think she can ever get quite used to it, but for some reason she feels connected to it.

Sharon smiles when she sees Winter’s fascination with the snowflakes falling on the window of the car.

 

The clearance itself isn’t particularly easy. They’re with four—Sharon, Rhodey, Winter and Oliver—and Hydra is with many more.

Still, there are more scientists than agents in the base. Winter shields Oliver with her katana as they make their way through the base.

They bind up the last Hydra scientist when Sharon connects over the comm.

“Guys,” she says hurriedly, “one of those scientists came up and he injected something into Rhodey.”

“Why wasn’t he in the suit?” Asks Winter sharply. “He was trying to pick up some sort of vial- I don’t know! I don’t know what’s happening, but he’s convulsing, and he isn’t breathing!”

It’s the first time they hear the woman so incredibly panicked. Winter doesn’t want to admit it, but when she sees Rhodey on the floor minutes later, her heart stops for a second.

She and Oliver carry him into the jet and put him on the table while Sharon installs the jet to fly home.

“IV drip,” says Winter. Oliver obeys, and hands her the IV. She takes Rhodey’s arm carefully—ignores the tingles and the warmth spreading through her body at feeling him—and taps on his arm to get a vein.

It’s hard to put an IV into someone’s arm when your hands are trembling.

 

When it’s done and he’s asleep, she’s breathing too fast.

 _He’s going to die,_ she thinks. _He’s going to die. How couldn’t I know?_

They did give him the same formula. She doesn’t know why, but they did. And his body is clearly not taking it well.

_What do I do, what do I do, what do I—_

_He’s going to die—_

_Shit—_

_Breathe, Winter, breathe,_ she tells herself sternly. _In. Out. In. Out._

_You’re going to figure this out._

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

When they land on the helipad at the Mansion, Bruce and Helen are already there with a stretcher.

“Hurry!” The geneticist says as Winter carefully puts Rhodey’s body on the white stretcher. The dark man groans and shifts. When he opens an eye, Winter can see it’s bloodshot.

“His pulse is fading,” Bruce says softly. “He’s going to be okay,” Helen says quickly, already rolling the stretcher back into the Mansion.

Winter follows them—trails behind the stretcher like a lost puppy. She wants to be there with him, any other woman in his life be damned.

If he dies… if he dies, what’s going to happen?

She grips Bruce’s arm as Helen rolls the stretcher into their surgery room, where several doctors are waiting.

“What is it?” He asks, tone gentle. She sucks in a breath. “It’s the formula,” she whispers shakily. “It’s the same formula- it’s the same they gave to me. Bruce—” she almost cries. Almost. “He might die,” she manages to get out eventually.

Her heart is racing, and she doesn’t know what to do- what should she do- what’s going to happen- how can she save—

“He’ll be fine,” she then hears Helen’s voice. “Rhodey’s a strong one. He’ll pull through.”

They don’t mention how her shoulders sag in relief. They also don’t comment on the spilt tears on her cheeks or the way she’s trembling when she sits down in the chair Helen offers her.

“I thought—” she chokes. She buries her head in her hands. “I thought I was going to lose him.” It comes out muffled, but it’s there, nonetheless.

 _I’m a hundred and fourteen years old,_ she thinks that night as she sits down next to his bed, _and I’m in love with someone who doesn’t love me back._

* * *

 

“This is the last piece we have,” Bucky says as he throws the file on the table. Winter looks up from her cup of blood and blinks sluggishly. The former Winter Soldier sighs and sits down. Besides them, there’s nobody else in the dining room.

“Of Hydra?” She asks, even though she already knows the answer. He only nods.

“Well… do you want to keep searching?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. He pulls a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Winter, I really don’t. What if… what if maybe it’s time to let go? You know? Let go of the past and of everything they did to us—” He cuts himself off and sighs again.

“Is that a decision for us to make?” Winter asks carefully.

She understands his point—she really does. She knows just what it’s like to be tired of fighting, but the thing is, she isn’t tired of this yet. She still wants to make them pay. She’s waited too long; she’s longed for all those years and now that she’s with the Avengers she finally gets another shot to do it—the right way this time.

Aryan told her that it was over. That it was time to stop. That the Avengers are a new beginning for them. A new chapter. A new page. Without the killing—without Hydra, without retribution.

Sometimes that’s the only thing she wants. For it to stop. For everything to just stop.

She’s lived over a hundred years. She’s seen too much.

Winter is pulled out of her thoughts by Bucky’s shrug. “If we quit doin’ that, y’know, taking out Hydra, SHIELD will pull up and finish it for us. They don’t really have a lot on their hands right now. It would be good for them.”

He looks up at her now, and in his eyes, she reads only understanding. “But you…”

“I don’t know,” she sighs in answer to the words he doesn’t say. “Sometimes… sometimes all I want is for it to stop. And then there are days in which I still want to make sure they know what they’ve done. Killing them was the only reason I stayed alive. You know that better than anyone.”

It stays silent.

“I think Hydra ruined me in a way nobody else could. I want to make them pay. But everyone who was there—all those scientists and all those agents—they’re all dead. Maybe it’s done.”

_“Trust again.”_

_“A chance for a new life,”_ Aryan had said. And,

_“I want to live again._

When does she get to live again? Does she even _want_ to live again?

 

* * *

 

Four days after Winter’s and Bucky’s discussion about the clearance of Hydra bases by the Avengers, she meets Sam on the rooftop instead of Bucky or Aryan.

 _Makes sense_ , she thinks. Aryan is off on a recon mission for SHIELD with Macy, and Bucky’s asleep.

He smiles at her as he sits down next to her—let’s his legs dangle over the roof.

They watch the sunset together.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she whispers. She wants to get her mind off the difficult things—Hydra, herself, her family—and think about normal and happy and just… simple things.

“Natasha Romanoff loved mushrooms,” he says then. It stays silent for a few seconds. Then she turns to him and smiles. “What else did she love?”

“Clint,” Sam says, and he swallows. “Us. All of us. We were… we were family.”

Winter doesn’t take his hand and doesn’t try to console him—weirdly enough, Sam’s glad for that. He doesn’t need someone to help him wallow in sadness. He needs to talk about it.

“One time when we were on the run, Steve and she rode a motorcycle together. I could hear her laugh. That was amazing.”

He smiles slightly. “I think she loved a lot of things; she just didn’t want to admit it. Love is for children, she sometimes said. The Red Room taught her that.”

Now that, Winter knows. She nods.

“She grew past that. She was… Natasha was like a sister to me.”

Sam swallows and Winter hands him her bottle of whiskey. He drinks from it after a deep sigh.

“Natasha Romanoff was a strong woman,” Winter muses. Sam turns to look at her now with a questioning gaze.

Winter only smiles. “I met the Black Widow. Once or twice. It’s a bit foggy. She was a resilient woman.”

She reaches out to take Sam’s hand and squeezes it. “Grieving is normal. You need to grieve.”

“It’ll never go away,” Sam grumbles, remembering Riley all too well. Winter hums in agreement. They stay like that for a long time—huddled together, seeking not only warmth but also comfort in one another.

It makes Winter remember.

 

* * *

 

**Tony’s Ithaca lakeside cabin**

Helen doesn’t take Rhodey with her to South-Korea once he wakes up.

Instead, everyone watches in amazement as Rhodey walks without any help or any pain.

Winter, however, isn’t there to witness it.

 

The lakeside cabin is still how she remembers it. The snow is already thick, there, and the wind is howling as she and Peter shuffle inside, where Pepper Potts-Stark ( _“Not miss Potts, Winter, just Pepper.”)_ awaits them with hot chocolate.

Morgan is still an angel.

Winter enjoys watching the girl play a game with Peter—laughs when the girl beats Peter at said game and smiles when Pepper offers her another cup of hot chocolate.

Morgan likes cheeseburgers, the girl tells her excitedly. “Just like my dad,” she says proudly, and while Winter expects tears, she only sees warm smiles.

Pepper is a strong woman and a good mother, she realizes later. It makes her stomach churn. _I wanted to be a mother too, once,_ she thinks, and she immediately pushes the thought away. It’s of no use to get sad about those things.

 

That evening, she and Peter sit down on the stairs of the veranda. She’s leaning against the wooden rails and looks up the stars she can see through the trees, her hands wrapped around her mug with steaming tea.

Inside the cabin, Pepper is preparing Morgan for bed.

“I’ve always wanted children.”

“Really?”

Winter nods. She sighs. “They… they made sure it wasn’t possible.”

She looks at Peter and immediately looks the other way again to avoid the look of pity he gives her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and she shrugs in response. She doesn’t pull away, though, when he takes her hand.

“It’s no use whining about the past. It happened. I can’t change it.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be sad about it.”

“Well,” she says abruptly, “I had enough years to be sad about it. Let’s go inside. I’m cold.”

It’s a bullshit excuse and he raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say a word as they shuffle back inside the heated cabin.

 

Morgan asks for a story.

Winter sits down and tells her a story of a fiery redhaired princess, who was so smart that she had read all the books in the royal library.

Morgan giggles when Winter says the princess defeated rovers with only a few grapes and a pen—then gasps when Peter continues about how the princess saved a woman’s life and almost fell off a cliff afterwards.

“—and the princess rules her kingdom forever in happiness with all her friends,” Winter finishes. Morgan smiles. “I like that one!” Morgan says cheerily. Then she sighs and pulls her blanket a little higher.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Winter only smiles, and before she knows it, presses her lips to Morgan’s forehead. “Sleep well.” She leaves silently to give the two kids a bit of privacy.

“Peter?” She hears Morgan’s soft voice.

“Yes Morgan?” Comes the boy’s response.

A beat of silence.

“I love you three thousand,” the girl then whispers. Winter pretends not to hear Peter almost choke on his breath and moves away.

When the boy stumbles out of Morgan’s bedroom, Winter is there to pick him up and hug him while he cries.

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

Christmas arrives when the snow falls thicker and thicker every day. For the first time in her long life, Winter can associate snow with good.

Snowball fights between Aryan and Oliver; Harley and Peter making snow angels—Maria even makes them eggnog after Sam begs for it with the SHIELD agent.

Still, Winter stays inside. Her heart tightens when Aryan laughs—her hands keep searching for his warm body next to her at night, even though he no longer sleeps next to her.

When she sees Rhodey running outside, a hesitant smile forms on her lips.

“He seems happy,” says Wanda from behind her. Winter doesn’t flinch—she heard the Scarlet Witch from afar—but grips her mug a bit tighter.

“He does,” she agrees. The Sokovian woman sits down next to her and leans forward, elbows resting on her knees. “He hasn’t been able to walk without help eight years. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

Wanda hums. “This… this is a Christmas miracle.”

 _This is not a miracle,_ Winter thinks. _Hydra did this to him. How can I ever call it a miracle?_

Wanda sighs softly, as if she can hear Winter’s thoughts. “I know you think differently. But Rhodey’s happy. Isn’t that what matters now?”

Winter tears her eyes from the dark man’s happy face and lets them rest on Aryan. “Hydra doesn’t give things away without a purpose,” she whispers. “They want something. I’m not going to let them break Rhodey apart from the inside.”

“Can’t you be happy for him?”

“They did this to me!” Winter snaps at her. Her eyes are blazing fire. “They did the same to me—do I look happy to you? I’ve lived for too long, Wanda. I am _not_ going to let them do that to him too. You watch your friends and family die around you. Crumple of old age—and yet there you are, sitting like nothing ever happens to you because Hydra presented a fucking miracle! Immortality is not a beautiful thing. I’d rather he walks with braces for the rest of life and die with his friends than have him watch his friends die in front of his eyes.”

Wanda seems a bit taken aback by Winter’s anger, but Winter is not going to apologize for it.

“They made me a monster,” she says, softer. “I can’t let them do that to him too.”

 

The day passes by quietly. Winter stays holed up in her room and Wanda doesn’t try to talk to her after that.

When she sleeps, she dreams of snow.

A snowflake falling on her hand. The glistening of a sword. And then red blood dripping on the frozen ground—making all the white go red.

She wakes up with a jolt, breathing too quick, eyes wide open. Scanning.

Three windows. A door. Bathroom window. Glass of the mirror. Her bed. Her sheets. Soft pillow underneath her hands.

 _Monster,_ her thoughts whisper to her. _Monster._

She doesn’t cry.

She really, really doesn’t.

 

(she does)

 

* * *

 

**SHIELD’s quinjet**

She accepts one of SHIELD’s own missions to escort a politician to Japan during Christmas, ensuring she won’t have to spend those days in the Mansion.

The politician is a female, and remarkably cold. Winter doesn’t mind. It makes her think of her own handlers.

The woman plays chess.

Winter had a handler who played chess once. He taught her how to play as well—and talked to her in Estonian, her own native tongue. She liked him.

 

They made her kill him.

 

The woman lands in Japan safely, and Winter steps on the first jet back home.

She plays with her medallion, fiddling with the cold silver on her fingers. Turns it around and around. Opens it. Looks at the photos. Closes it again.

To distract herself from the roaring motors and the soft chatter of the SHIELD agents around her, she thinks up five ways to kill herself in this jet.

Windows. Jump out.

Dagger. Throat.

Rope. One of the metal bars above her.

Medallion. Choke herself.

Sword. Chest.

It doesn’t really help.

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

When she arrives on the helipad at the Mansion, she immediately notices the snow has stopped falling.

Instead, the ground is covered in a thick layer of snow. The pavement, however, is completely cleared.

Sam waits for her when she steps out. He smiles at her, and she notices the new bracelet he’s wearing. She doesn’t ask.

“How’d it go?” He asks her as he falls into step with her. She doesn’t look at him. “Splendid.” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own.

 _And here_ , she thinks. _How would I do it here?_

Sam fills her in on what happened—which isn’t exactly much. They celebrated and exchanged gifts, sang carols, had dinner and watched a movie.

He seems happy. For some reason, that makes her happy too.

She doesn’t know why, but the warmth of the Mansion hits close to her heart.

 _Home_ , she thinks. And then, _no, not home. The Avengers Mansion. Home… what is my home?_

 

* * *

 

Bucky is sweet. He sits with her on the rooftop and listens to her silence while they share a bottle of whiskey.

The wind blows through her hair. She doesn’t shiver even though she wants to.

“You know,” the man speaks up, “I always thought that I didn’t deserve all of this. You know? This family. These… these people. All this love.”

He waves around while talking. She watches his hands. Even without weapons, they’re dangerous. He’s not a weapon anymore, but… but he’ll always stay an assassin. There’s no escaping his past. Neither can she escape hers. Killing is what she’s always done. To stay alive. It’s always been about survival.

Weirdly enough, that’s not the case anymore. It’s not about survival anymore. She has people who can protect her—she can protect herself.

“And maybe I still don’t.” He laughs. “But I’m gonna stay anyways. I love them. I’m not going to lie about that. You shouldn’t either.”

Does she? Does she love them?

 

* * *

 

They throw a small party for New Year’s Eve.

It’s not snowing anymore, so they celebrate in the backyard on the terrace, with a small bonfire in the fire pit and their chairs around it.

Winter lets herself be huddled up to Aryan—lets him pull the warm blanket tighter around their bodies. It feels good.

The shadows on his face flicker as the wind blows through the flames. His eyes, however, remain bright and alive. There’s something on his face that she can’t quite place.

Love, she realizes then. He loves them.

 _Do I love them?_ She lifts her head and looks around at all their faces.

Maria and Sharon are clinking their bottles of beer together, laughing. Bruce and Helen are talking with light smiles—Bucky and Sam are kissing each other softly, whispering words of love and adoration to each other.

Wanda and Macy are close together, sharing a blanket. Oliver and Harley and Peter are cracking jokes about the new year.

Constance and Levi are sitting apart, but leaning towards each other, their knees almost touching.

Rhodey and Phil Coulson, a SHIELD agent and a friend of the Avengers, are preparing the food on the grill a bit farther away.

Their faces all have one thing in common.

Happiness. And love, maybe. Love for all those around—for themselves, for their friends, their family and the world.

_Do I love them?_

Her heart doesn’t tighten at seeing them like this. She doesn’t think about her ways out. She doesn’t think about her weapons. She doesn’t think about the blood on her hands.

They look so happy. How can she not love them for it?

_I do love them._

She smiles as the thought crosses her mind.

“What’s got you smiling?” Aryan whispers. She turns to look at him. “I’m just happy,” she murmurs, and his own smile widens.

“I love you, Aryan.” She presses her lips to his forehead. “I always thought I didn’t have room for other family members, but I do. I have plenty of room in my heart.”

Now he grins. “I love you too, Helena.” He rarely uses her actual name. It’s nice. It makes her body warm in a way nothing else can make it. _Family,_ she thinks. _Family._

 

This time it’s Constance who toasts. She raises her glass of champagne and the chatter dies as all eyes turn to her. She smiles bashfully.

“Good evening, Avengers,” she says. Everyone smiles. “It’s the thirty-first of December tonight. The last day of 2025. To me, it feels good. An old chapter closes and a new page turns. I want to thank you. We’re growing. We’re loving. We’re living. To a new chapter!”

“To a new chapter!” They all echo, raising their glasses in return. Winter lets herself smile. When she turns and looks at Rhodey, he smiles back at her, soft and pliant. Her heart jumps a little.

 _I’m in love with James Rhodes and it’s going to be okay_ , she thinks. _It’s okay._

 

The food looks delicious. She watches as Aryan fills his plate happily, and she smiles when she sees Levi take the last potato to give to Constance.

When she looks up, she sees Bucky raise his glass at her. She raises her own at him.

“We’ll talk later,” he mouths, and she nods. Then he turns to Sam again, smiling so lovingly it makes her chest hurt for a second. _I want someone to love me that much._

She pushes the thought away, though, and wraps an arm around her little brother as he eats. “It’s a shame you can’t eat this,” Aryan says, licking off his fingers with a grin. For the first time in her life, it doesn’t make her sad to talk about that. “I think I’m fine,” she answers, raising her other glass. Fox blood is her favourite, after all.

“You have no idea what you’re missing,” Constance says, suddenly sliding on the couch next to Winter and stealing a piece of blanket for herself. Winter takes a moment to look at the blonde, and then at Levi, who gets up from his chair to walk towards the grill.

Then she simply shrugs. “If I don’t know how it tastes, I’ll never miss it.” Constance smiles at her, and suddenly Winter knows that this was it along.

 _“Smile, though your heart is aching,”_ she remembers someone’s words. _“Smile, even though it’s breaking. When there are clouds in the sky—”_

“The stars are beautiful,” Aryan’s soft voice breaks her line of thoughts. She looks up, through the wooden rafters above the terrace, and smiles when she sees the twinkling starts in the dark night sky.

There are no clouds in the sky. Her heart is not broken anymore.

She can let go now. Finally.

 

They don’t do firework. None of them can handle it—they all know that. Winter’s glad for it.

They don’t part ways either, like they did the year before. Instead, they stay together, seated around the fire, with blankets around them and sharing their body heat.

It’s comfortable.

For the first time in years, she feels like she’s truly a part of a family again.

 

They switch when some of them get up to get marshmallows and more champagne.

Oliver and Harley snuggle up under a blanket together—Winter is positive they’re holding hands under it—while Wanda and Macy shove their seats closer together and Macy crawls into Wanda’s lap, covering the both of them with a thick blanket.

Bucky and Sam stay on their stools with two blankets and their hands entwined, while Peter joins Aryan on another sofa a bit farther away from the fire.

Constance leaves Winter’s side to take place next to Levi, while Sharon and Maria shuffle around to give Phil a bit of space on their sofa.

Rhodey is the last to join them, and he immediately flops down next to Winter, pulling a blanket with him. He drapes it over her carefully and shifts closer. “Is this okay?” He asks softly, his face dangerously close as the fire flickers again.

She nods, suddenly unable to speak. Her lips are dry. She licks them carefully, and doesn’t miss his eyes flicking down, following the movement. Then he stares up again, and they face each other.

Winter would feel less nervous facing the barrel of a gun.

The corner of his mouth curls up and he carefully drapes an arm around her, pulling her a bit closer. His body is radiating heat, and she immediately leans into it like a cat would.

For some reason, he doesn’t mind.

 

“A new year, new possibilities,” Rhodey whispers when the minutes before midnight start ticking by. Winter shifts so she can face him properly this time.

Her fingers reach for her soulmark on her skin. It makes her warm. His eyes follow the movement. Then one of his hands take her own. His touch is warm, and she lets him entangle his fingers with her own.

It feels… right.

Like it’s… meant to be that way.

And it’s not weird at all.

He smiles at her. She reads a million thoughts in his eyes and yet can’t seem to understand the most important one.

When he whispers, “Can I kiss you?” she blinks in surprise.

Then, almost imperceptible, she nods.

 

His lips are warm and soft—so incredibly soft. He presses them against hers calmly, seemingly not expecting too much of a response. Carefully, she kisses him back, as slow and sweet as she can. His lips taste a bit like the champagne they drank—it might be a strange thing to notice, but Winter is not going to worry about that.

He pulls back, and she quickly leans in to peck his lips twice more. He smiles softly, in a way she hasn’t seen him before, and her heart leaps when she notices that all that open affection on his face is meant for her.

“We’re going to count down!” She hears Sam yell then, and that breaks their sort-of trance. Winter tears her eyes away from his warm dark ones, and looks at Sam, who steps up and raises his glass.

He starts counting down with a grin gracing his features, his eyes occasionally flickering down to Bucky, who is staring up at him in adoration.

“Eight!” He says, and now Sharon raises her glass as well, yelling, “Seven!”

“Six!” Aryan and Oliver continue, and Winter looks at her little brother, her heart swelling with love. She feels Rhodey’s arm around her, holding her against him, and it feels good.

There’s a buzz in her body, and it feels incredibly warm. When she reaches up to touch her soulmark, it’s warm and sends sparks through her fingers. Surprised, she looks at Rhodey, who raises his glass and yells, “Four!”

_Is he… is he…?_

“Three!” Now he turns to her again, and she takes her own glass in her hand. “Two!” She says loudly, raising her glass.

“One!”

And then, “Happy new year!”

Laughter bursts out around them, and everybody applauds. “Happy new year,” Rhodey says softly, and she smiles, clinking their glasses together. “Happy new year.”

 

He kisses her again, softly on the lips, minutes later, before he gets up and joins Sam a bit farther away, away from the Avengers.

Winter looks at Bucky and smiles carefully.

Her fingers touch her soulmark again, and it makes her body lighter than it’s ever been. _Soulmate,_ she thinks. _Soulmate._

It’s difficult to not do anything, but Winter knows what it feels like to be in control of herself—she manages to stay in control for the remained of the night, as they set up a board game and get themselves more champagne.

They stay up until three in the morning, when Bucky yawns and Sam says, “You should all be in bed by now. Especially the young ones.” He winks at them, and Constance laughs. Then Sharon yawns loudly and stretches. “I’m off to bed,” she says, and when she walks in, the others follow. Aryan pulls Winter with him and smiles at her.

“So?” He asks. She raises an eyebrow. “Rhodey and you?” He nudges her, and she pushes him away softly. “You’re way too young to hear about things like that, Aryan.” He laughs, loud and bright, and she does too.

It makes her feel happy.

 _Yeah,_ she thinks, looking around. _This is home._

She throws her sweater in a corner of her room. _I’ll pick it up later. Maybe._

Her medallion is on her bedside table, glimmering in the light of her lamp. She strides forward and takes it in her hand. The silver is cool to the touch.

“Head uut aastat, ema.”

It stays silent, and she doesn’t wait for the response she’s never going to get. Instead, she opens her drawer and puts the medallion inside.

A soft creaking behind her indicates a presence. “You have a soulmark,” someone says, and she immediately knows it’s Rhodey. She turns around slowly, to gather her courage.

With a deep breath, she nods. He smiles and pushes himself off the doorframe. The light illuminates his face and makes his dark eyes look like pools of molten chocolate. Sue her, she likes chocolate.

“I do,” she whispers. There’s no use for any theatrics, and so she slowly pulls off her shirt, revealing both her collarbones and the beautiful eagle wings under them.

Rhodey sucks in a breath and steps a little closer. She ignores the heat in her body and simply looks at him as he pulls off his own shirt, revealing a small white butterfly on his dark chest.

“They called me a loyal eagle in the military,” he says softly. She blinks. _White Butterfly._

“And you were their White Butterfly.” She grimaces at his words as he steps even closer. Now, she notices he’s closed the door.

“That name is not mine anymore,” she answers as kindly as she can. Rhodey nods in understanding. Then, he takes a breath. “Can I…”

“Of course.”

He reaches out, and slowly, puts his hand over one of the wings. Her skin tingles and heats up under his touch—it feels like fire is spreading through her body.

She manages not to gasp—but only barely. Her knees are starting to go weak, and that’s a first. She doesn’t ask because she knows he’s okay with it—she can see it in his eyes—and so she reaches up and puts her own hand over his mark. She traces the butterfly with her index finger and notices the heat spreading up from her hand.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and when she looks at him, the only emotion she reads in his eyes is desire.

And maybe…

Maybe something else, but she dare not speak that aloud. Some things are better left unsaid.

“I always thought I’d never find my soulmate,” whispers Rhodey, tracing the other wing under her collarbone.

Now she must work to blink her own tears away. _This is no time to cry, Winter,_ she scolds herself.

“Soulmates are rare.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but he still understands her well enough. “Hydra… they tried to cover it up. Make it seem like I had none to ensure I was infallible. Emotions are dangerous. Especially if they make you weak.”

He looks down at her, and for the first time in her life, she is okay with being smaller than someone—not always being the older one, the bigger one. The protector.

“I…” she reaches up to put her hand on his cheek, and he puts his own hand over hers. His dark skin colour is a contrast to her lighter one, but they fit incredibly well together. _Colour doesn’t matter_ , she thinks. It never did, not to her.

“I’m not good at emotions,” she eventually says, and it’s true. Rhodey gives her a hint of a sad smile. “Then I’ll be good at it for the both of us.”

A beat of silence as they just look at each other—take each other in completely.

“Can I kiss you?” He then asks, again. She only smiles. “I’d love to.”

 

When he kisses her this time, his hand is still on her soulmark. She feels warm and light and just… just perfect.

Her eyes flutter close and she doesn’t stop him when he starts touching her body. Warmth spreads through her like a fire—heats her on the inside and is surprisingly bearable.

It all comes together, then, when they’re together. Like two puzzle pieces sliding next to each other. For once in her life, Winter feels like she doesn’t have to do anything alone anymore. She doesn’t need to be vigilant or stand guard—now she can rest and be okay.

 

She dreams about a white butterfly and an eagle that night.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up three mornings after, the sun is up already. It’s still cold, though, and she takes it as an excuse to take Rhodey’s sweater and pad to the kitchen on her socks.

When she enters the kitchen, some of the others are there. Sam and Macy are on a run, as usual, while Constance and Aryan are in the training rooms doing god-knows-what.

Oliver and Levi are still sound asleep—while Peter is back in New York City to be with his friends.

All in all, it’s a calm morning.

Sharon and Maria are eating bagels by the breakfast bar, Bucky and Harley are sitting by the counter with two steaming mugs, and Wanda is baking an egg. That leaves only Rhodey, who’s walking around without a shirt and only pants.

Winter raises an eyebrow when she sees him but doesn’t say anything as she opens the fridge and takes out a pack of blood. She’s long stopped wondering where Bucky gets the blood from. She doesn’t actually think she wants to know.

She pours herself a glass of it and jumps on the counter next to the furnace where Wanda is humming a Sokovian song under her breath.

It’s strange how fast all of them landed in the domestic section of the Avengers, but she must admit that it’s nice.

This is where she belongs, after all.

 

When Rhodey takes place between her legs, it’s safe to say she’s the teeniest bit surprised, but she lets him wrap his warm arms around her and press his face into her shoulder.

“Why are you wearing my sweater?” He asks into the soft fabric of the sweater, so it comes out more like, “Mwy af vou weain my swea’e?”

“Because I like it,” answers Winter, and she drains her cup before setting it down on the counter. Wanda looks up and shoots her a sweet smile—which Winter answers tiredly.

Rhodey looks up and smiles. He looks really pretty in the sunlight streaming inside the window.

She doesn’t miss the SHIELD’s agents’ raised eyebrows but ignores them for now and simply holds him because she wants to enjoy it as much as she can.

 

* * *

 

**Location unknown**

“Winter?”

She can hear their voices, but she still can’t see. Her world is dark, even though she’s blinked a few times.

Right at this moment, she wants to cry.

There are footsteps close by, but Winter doesn’t even have the energy anymore to pick up her weapons.

Then there is a warm hand on her shoulder. “Winter?” The voice sounds distressed, worried even. There are more footsteps, all hurried and uneven.

“Winter? Can you hear me?” The voice demands to know. She recognizes Maria’s voice in it.

“I…” she clears her throat, “I can hear you.”

“Good,” Maria says, and Winter can hear someone sigh in relief.

“Do you think you can stand?” Sam asks, from a bit further away. She doesn’t respond. “Winter?” She lets her head fall against the metal wall and sighs.

 _Leave me here,_ she wants to say.

She knows Aryan would kill her if she did that.

“We need to know if you can walk ‘cause I’m not carrying a dramatic ass back to the Quinjet,” Sam jokes. Winter smiles tightly.

She extends her hand. “Sam,” she says softly. “Can you come and sit in front of me?”

Seconds later, his warm hand slides in her own and she can feel that he crouches down in front of her.

She leans up and rests her forehead against his own.

“I can’t see,” she whispers as soft as she can. She feels him tense. He doesn’t say anything else, and slowly helps her up. She stands a bit wobbly and holds him tight to make sure she doesn’t fall.

“Winter, what’s going?” Maria asks.

Winter looks up and tries to give the woman a reassuring smile, even though she can’t see her, so she has no idea where to direct the smile to.

“Winter!” Maria says, suddenly alarmed. “Sam, she’s bleeding!”

Sam picks her up swiftly, and they start running through the empty hallways. Their footsteps echo through the facility and when they step outside, Winter can breathe in the fresh air. She hears the soft hums on the motor of the quinjet, and then Sam steps on something solid.

“Quinjet,” he whispers in her ear. She sighs and lets her head rest against his chest as he carries her bridal-style inside.

 

Sam keeps her in a seated position while Maria cuts her suit away and cleans the wound in her side. “You’ll heal in no time,” the agent says. “But I’m going to stitch it anyways.”

It hurts, but Winter knows the sensation, so she relaxes as well as she can.

She falls asleep with her head on Sam’s shoulder.

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

She feels soft hands on her shoulders, and immediately jerks awake.

She’s still enclosed by darkness, but it feels a lot different now—a lot lighter.

Then she hears Wanda’s voice.

“We need to get you inside, Winter, and we need to be sure—" “I’ll walk,” Winter interrupts her. “I can do that.”

“Hmm,” Wanda hums, and it sounds sad.

Winter lets Wanda take her arm and pretends that she’s wobbly because of her injury and not because she can’t see a fucking thing.

Suddenly she’s _very_ happy that the others are away.

 

Harley, Rhodey and Constance have gone to a meeting with the UN and SHIELD in Brussels; Macy, Aryan and Levi are on a recon mission in the Netherlands and Peter and Oliver are in New York City to deal with a group of thieves that keeps popping up.

So she’s stuck with Bucky, Maria, Sam, Wanda and Bruce for the time being. _Less people to watch me fail at life,_ she thinks without any humour. It’s a strange thought.

 

They sit her down on a table and she feels and hears Bruce examining her, all the while humming a lullaby that she doesn’t recognize.

“The others aren’t here,” Bruce tells her softly. “They wanted to give us some privacy. Wanda helped you by taking away a bit of your pain.”

A beat of silence. Bruce sighs.

“I can’t say for sure if it’s temporary blindness or permanent. Hydra’s been experimenting with all kinds of things so I’ll just have to dive into all their old files and see if I can find anything. But your body is constantly changing and healing, so who knows what’ll happen?”

Winter wiggles her fingers.

“I think it’s permanent,” she admits. “It feels that way, at least.”

She shrugs, unsure of what to say next. Bruce’s hand lands on her shoulder. It’s a nice, warm and comforting gesture. The weight of his hand feels normal.

“You know,” she starts after a few minutes of silence, “I have this beautiful family now. Whose faces I see every day. And yeah, sometimes they annoy me, but most of the time I can only think of how incredibly lucky I am. I did so many bad things in my life, and yet the universe grants me this.

“A soulmate. New brothers. New sisters.”

She turns her head and hopes she’s looking at Bruce now. “And I’ll never see their faces again.”

She doesn’t break, even though she desperately wants to. But that drill is still in her head and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get rid of it.

She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders.

“You should sleep,” Bruce says then. “I’ll give you some medication.”

 

She’s still fidgety about sleeping.

_What if I have a nightmare?_

_What if I wake up and it’s true—I will never see again?_

Once Bruce gives her the medication, however, she falls asleep as a brick. She feels someone carry her to bed, and then she gives in to the darkness.

 

* * *

 

She shoots up in bed with a jolt. She’s panting and everything is black around her. There’s only darkness.

“Hey,” she hears a warm voice, and then, a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe, Winter. In and out.”

“Rhodey,” she chokes out, reaching out, but only grabbing the air. Rhodey’s warm hands guide her to his face. She cups his face, caressing his cheeks with her fingers—tries to convey everything she’s feeling into her touch.

“Weren’t you in Brussels?”

She can feel him smile before he chuckles warmly. “I was, but Sam sent me a message and I came as quickly as I could. Harley and Constance can handle it.”

A beat of silence.

“Do you want to shower?” Rhodey then asks, and she’s glad he doesn’t ask anything about the darkness. “You’ve been in bed for a while, and—” “Could you just hold me for a while?” She interrupts him gently. Rhodey smiles again, and shifts. She can hear the sheets rustle, and then his body presses against her own.

“I missed you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on her cheekbone. She ignores the buzz under her skin and closes her eyes again, putting her head on the soft pillow.

Rhodey pulls his fingers through her hair.

“Do you think I should dye it?” She wonders aloud.

It stays quiet for a while, and Winter’s suddenly scared something happened. Then, he answers, “I don’t think you should. It’s a part of you. But if you want to do it, I’ll help you.”

She thinks about it for a minute—pictures herself with darker hair, and immediately tears start welling up.

“I don’t want to,” she whispers before she can burst into tears, and buries her nose in the crook of his neck. Rhodey simply curls his arms around her and pulls her even closer.

“I’ll stay with you,” he promises. “Always.”

 

* * *

 

**Wakanda**

Bruce finds a cure to it.

More accurately, Shuri finds a cure. Over a call, she tells them cheerily that she found something that might work.

“I am unsure if it will be permanent or temporary, however. You’ll be the first to try it.”

Winter knows the princess purposefully avoids saying the words test subject—but that is, in basics, what she will be.

She takes the cure anyways.

It’s a fourteen-hour long surgery, and when she wakes up after, she’s still drowsy—to find Rhodey by the side of her bed.

She blinks—notices she can _see_ the worry in his eyes.

“You’re pretty,” she whispers, and he ducks his head with a bashful smile, before lifting it again with clear surprise. “You can see,” he says, and he leans down and kisses her, long and sweet.

 

* * *

 

“I’m glad Shuri got you up and about again,” says Bucky when she meets him in the hallways on the way to her room. She smiles at the former Soldat.

“Me too.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes her remember old times—with cold tables and needles and—

She cuts off her own thoughts and focuses on her hands instead of his eyes. “It would have been disastrous,” she mumbles, and she doesn’t need to look up to know he agrees.

“We would have found a way,” he says, and the corner of her mouth curls up again.

“Maybe. Anyhow, this made me… this made me realize how grateful I actually am to be able to see you.”

The underlying message— _you mean a lot to me—_ remains unsaid, but understood, nonetheless. Bucky smiles, kind and pliant.

“I think at some point we all realize how much we care.”

He leaves after that and leaves her with distant memories of the past.

But not alone. Not anymore.

 

* * *

 

**New York City**

Their work is dangerous. It always has been. Winter’s known that for a long time.

And the fact that they’re no longer on direct call since they are a forty-minute flight away with a quinjet from the city, does not give them any favours.

When the Avengers descend in the jet, the battle is ongoing.

Dr. Doom apparently supposed it was a good idea to make an entrance in February, when it’s still cold outside and raining.

“I swear, it only ever rains when we show up,” grumbles Oliver when they stumble out of the jet, landing on a rooftop. Winter nods, completely in agreement with the archer, as she spots Dr. Doom standing on the road, surrounded by his Doombots.

“You can never escape!” He cackles maniacally. She sends two daggers his way, but as expected, his Doombots take them on and fall to the ground. Dr. Doom remains standing. The bastard.

Winter grits her teeth. “We got eyes on a few Nazi’s,” Sam comes in on the comms.

“Hydra?” Asks Sharon, clearly concerned. “Hydra,” Sam confirms. Winter peers over the rooftop and indeed, there are several—okay, scratch that, more than several Hydra agents pouring out of the buildings and climbing out of sewers.

“These few blocks have been cleared,” Harley comes in. “We’re evacuating the last two blocks now.”

“Come in when they’re all cleared,” Bucky says grimly, before Winter shuts off the comms. She needs to be able to concentrate.

“What do we do, what do we do?” Oliver asks, hopping on one leg. Winter takes a few steps backwards. “We need to know why there are both Hydra agents and Dr. Doom with his Doombots today. Are they working together? For how long? Just for today? Longer? What do they want? Hydra is not one to do attacks like these,” she says. Oliver nods. She puts on her comms again, to listen to Bucky’s orders.

 

“—inter, I need you and Oliver to stay on the rooftops.” “I’m better on the ground,” Winter counters. “Oliver’s got an extra bow for you. We need more archers.” “Then you should have hired more,” Winter grumbles, but she takes the bow Oliver hands her and the arrows.

“Cover us while we go in, alright?”

Moments later, Captain America runs up the streets, with Sharon and Maria behind him.

Winter shoots three Hydra agents—Oliver five.

“Uhhh… is that supposed to be that big?” She then hears Sam say, and she looks up. Her eyes widen. In the sky hangs a Doombot, but enlarged, looking over the city. Sam flies over their heads towards the bot, but a laser beam shoots out and Sam narrowly avoids it.

“I don’t think so,” Constance comes in. Winter can see Rhodey’s suit following Sam up to the big Doombot, but it fires its laser beam again, this time straight into a building.

“Not again,” she hears Harley groan. And then, “It’s turning towards the blocks that aren’t cleared!”

Winter immediately drops the bow and arrows on the roof and gets up on the edge of the roof.

“What are you doing?” Oliver asks. “I’m going to try something new,” Winter says, throwing a smile over her shoulder. He looks concerned.

She takes a deep breath and clenches her hands. As she closes her eyes, she starts searching for that spark that she always carries with her.

Then she hears a sizzle—a louder crack follows. When she opens her eyes, she’s hovering in the air, with her lightning holding her up.

“Amazing,” Oliver breathes out, and she grins at him. “I’m going to take a closer look up there, okay?” The young archer nods, and she focuses again, before shooting up in the air with enormous speed.

 

The Doombot is indeed just an enlarged one. The only thing it seems to be able to do is shoot laser beams, which, in Winters opinion, isn’t incredibly productive. That’s only her opinion, though. She has no idea what Dr. Doom wants to get with this, but it’s no good.

It’s not easy to land on top of it, and it’s no easier to find a way to take it out, because if she does, it would drop down on the buildings below them, and possibly harm anything or anyone in the way. But if she doesn’t take it out, it could destroy a whole lot more.

“Take it out,” Bucky says in her ear, then, and that concludes her decision. She plants her hands on the cold metal of the bot and closes her eyes. Within seconds, it’s done, and she lets go.

When she does, however, the bot tumbles down, and she goes with it.

She closes her eyes—tries to reach for that spark again, but it doesn’t work. She’s falling. The wind is blowing through her hair and she knows that if she doesn’t think of something soon, she might seriously injure—and possibly kill—herself.

“Winter!” She hears Rhodey’s panicked voice come over the comms.

Mornings with sweaters. Nights with his soothing voice in her ear. His hands. His lips. His eyes.

_Do I love him?_

Well, at least she redeemed herself.

_I think I do._

When she hits the water, everything turns black.

 

When she opens her eyes again, she’s being pulled up by several strong hands, coughing out water as she goes.

“We have her,” a rough voice that she doesn’t recognize says, and she stills, looking up. A man in uniform is grinning down at her. “Hello, butterfly,” he greets her. “It’s been a long time since anyone could catch you. But you won’t fly out anymore, now.”

“Try me,” she hisses, and they pull her up, forcing her to her knees in the grass. The man roughly grabs her chin and makes her look at two people being forced in front of her.

“Aryan!” She calls out. And then, “Peter!”

The man cackles. “Victor was a good help to us today,” he says. “We got what we wanted. Now, little butterfly, to ensure you will not fly again, we will have to knock you out. You wouldn’t mind, right?”

“If you hurt them…” she stops talking as she sees one of the agents place a gun against her brother’s head. The man laughs now. “I won’t hurt them as long as you cooperate.”

“Okay.” She gives in. They can’t make her do anything. Not anymore. She’ll get out—they’ll come for her. _It’s going to be okay._

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. She doesn’t get time to say anything else, because something sharp stings in her neck, and then everything turns dark again.

She doesn’t hear Rhodey’s scream for her.

 

* * *

 

**Hydra facility**

Pain is the first thing she feels when she opens her eyes. Then, she recognizes the walls around her, and the soft murmur of the scientists. When she moves, something sharp stings in her wrists. She doesn’t really want to look, but she does it anyways.

Two silver bands are strapped around her wrists, locking her firmly into place on the metal chair. _Not again. Not again—please, not again._

She’s suddenly overcome by panic. What does this mean for the Avengers? What are they going to do to her? What are they going to make her do?

However, she doesn’t get the chance to start hyperventilating and pass out, as the man from before appears in her view. _Pity,_ she thinks. _At least I wouldn’t have felt it._

It’s unlike her to give up so easily—but she knows that there’s no getting out of this one now. She went with them willingly for starters; they already locked her in place, and they all know that she can’t break out.

Maybe she doesn’t even want to.

Sometimes it’s so hard being alive. Sometimes even breathing costs her too much. This could be the end. Bucky has the notebook with the words, and he knows what to do if the time comes. And if all else fails, Aryan knows where her hidden daggers are, coated in poison that can kill even an immortal.

“You didn’t even renovate,” she says, the sarcasm dripping off the words. The man in front of her simply raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, it’s been seventy years since I’ve seen this place—surely you’ve had enough time to paint or something.”

 _This is fun,_ she thinks when she sees the man frown. He looks angry, but he knows as well as she does that this is no place to lose his temper.

“I don’t think you’re in the place to make jokes right now,” he says through gritted teeth, clasping his hands together behind his back. She raises an eyebrow, but snaps her mouth shut anyways as he walks around.

_Oh yeah. Now I remember why I was so panicked._

She is so incredibly fucked, she realizes when the doctor that named himself Zola for some reason stands in front of her with a wide, maniacal grin.

“Remember me?” He asks, holding up a syringe with some kind of fluid that she doesn’t really want to look at.

She grits her teeth. _Asshole._

“Now now, there’s no need to get angry with me. Soon enough you won’t even remember your anger. How does that feel?”

“Don’t anger her any further, doctor,” the man from earlier snaps, stepping into view again. It should please Winter that he appears afraid of her, but Winter’s stomach only fills with dread at the entirely too smug smile he’s wearing.

_Oh no._

…and there is the panic.

“Don’t do it to me again,” she whispers. It slips out, and that angers her, but she’s also so incredibly scared that her own anger is the least of her worries. She knows what Hydra’s always wanted—she knows what they created her for. _They’re going to make me kill them. No, no, no, not again, not again, not again._

“You took everything from me. Wasn’t that enough? Please, please don’t do this to me.”

They don’t listen to her as she starts breathing quicker. Air, air, air. She needs to breathe in cool evening air—the one she breathed in with Bucky on the roof; the one she breathed in with Macy out running, the one she breathed in sitting on Sam’s back before he’d drop her on the ground for a mission; the one—

She screams when the shocks begin.

The second time, she screams again, even louder this time.

 

The sixth time, her mind is blank.

 

The tenth time, her eyes snap open. “Ready to comply,” she says, voice monotone. There is something, nagging at the back of her mind.

She doesn’t know what, but it doesn’t matter. She’s not there to wonder about herself—she’s only there to follow orders.

“Welcome back, Striker.”

 

* * *

 

“Be quiet, everyone,” commands Sam. The others shut up, everyone too worried about their teammate to disobey the command of their team leader.

Sam lifts his gun again—it’s been five days and sixteen hours since Winter disappeared, and he’s not here for another disappointment. No, he thinks. He’s here to get her home.

The intel they received can’t be on the wrong end. He’s pretty sure this is where she’ll be, and he can only pray to any god that might listen that they didn’t harm her.

When he talked to Steve, hours before they left the Mansion, the former Cap said that there was only a slight chance of that happening. Sam knows that—he just… he just doesn’t want to lose hope. Not now. None of them need that.

Especially Aryan.

 

It stays silent as they sneak through the abandoned hallways.

They encounter a few rooms with desks full of loose papers, all hastily shoved away for something. What, nobody knows. All Sam can conclude is that they left in a hurry.

Is there something bigger behind that?

Who knows?

 

He grits his teeth when they reach another shaft with a ladder spiralling down.

“Not again,” he hears Bucky groan in his ear.

The rest doesn’t answer. Sam puts his gun back in its thigh-holster and starts climbing down.

 

When he sets foot on the ground, he hears Sharon say, “God, I hate these ladders.”

He allows himself to smile just a bit—but not too much. They’re in a Hydra facility, after all. Laughter is not recommended.

 

* * *

 

They end up in a room that looks too much like the one in Siberia with the other Winter Soldiers. Bucky shivers just at the thought and steps inside after Sam, looking around and scanning for any obstacles or people.

There is nobody there. It’s eerily quiet inside—and dark too.

That is, until Harley flicks on the lights.

Some of them gasp—others, like Bucky, look away.

 

In the middle of the room, frozen on a table, lies Winter with her eyes closed.

With blood everywhere.

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

The Mansion is too quiet. The only ones in the kitchen are Maria and Oliver, making food for the others that are down in the medical bay to watch Winter.

Winter, their fellow Avenger, who’s been in an artificial coma constructed by Helen and Shuri for over two months now.

Every team member is vital, Sam remembers. Every family member means something to the larger group.

Aryan is the one who carries the worst of it. She’s his sister, after all. He feels like he failed her, sitting by her side and only able to hold her hand and hope.

Hope is all they have now.

They all know Hydra fucked with her head—they all know that there’s only the slightest chance of her getting back up again now.

The metal chair in that damned facility told them everything they needed to know.

Bucky hasn’t come out of his room—Peter is back in New York and outright refuses to come to the Mansion, under the guise of having work to do, even though they all know better than that.

They’re all scared.

 

* * *

 

When Stephen Strange visits them one sunny morning, the team can only sit and watch as the Sorcerer Supreme carefully examines Winter.

He looks at her hair for a while—murmurs something about snow and experiments with mutants—and proceeds to put his fingers on her forehead and close his eyes.

None of them expect her to sit up straight with her eyes open. Rhodey is the first to see her lunging for a knife.

Strange struggles to keep her in one place, while Sam texts Bucky that she’s awake and that they need him.

 

“I can’t hold her for long,” says Strange with sorrow once she’s back under again. Sam crosses his arms over each other and frowns. Bucky, next to him, remains silent.

“She’s strong, even for a mutant. What they did to her mind… it’s tricky, but they made it work.”

“What did they do?”

“They blocked magic, for some reason. Or she did. I don’t know. I can’t read into her thoughts—I can’t explore our options because I don’t even know what the hell they did to her.”

He sounds rather frustrated. Sam can relate.

“Brainwashing,” says Bucky then, tone flat. Strange nods. “Yes, yes, we all know that, but that’s not all. There’s something about the way her mind works… I don’t know. I have to work out the details.”

“So what do we do in the meantime?” Wanda asks, her eyes still fixed on Winter. Rhodey looks like he wants to contribute to the conversation, but instead stays seated where he is, next to Winter’s bed.

Sam suddenly feels angry for him and Winter. It took them so long to find each other and now Hydra comes and whisks it away like it’s nothing.

“We have to keep her like this,” Harley murmurs. Everyone looks at him. “She’s too dangerous if she’s awake. We don’t know what happened to her or what kind of mission they gave her—she could very well kill us all in our sleep. We’re the only thing standing between her and the world right now.”

“Right. And we need to remain together,” continues Levi. “We’re not strong enough on our own. Any chance we can contact someone who has more experience with this?”

Sam looks at Bucky, who gives him a nod.

“We’ll have to call Wakanda.”

 

* * *

 

She blinks. White lights above her, shining bright. They are annoying her—though she will never admit it out loud.

Voices. Soft voices, whispering secrets.

She turns her head. Her hands grip the sheets. One. Two. Three… six people. Where is she?

_“—we have a mission for you, Striker—”_

She blinks again. Her head is fuzzy. _My mission. What was my mission?_

They are not looking at her.

She squints, taking in their faces. She recognizes only two.

_“—kill the Avengers—”_

_Avengers. They are all Avengers—they must be. Then why are they—_

_Not important._ She shakes her head and pushes herself up in the bed _. I need to kill them._

Without a single sound, she slips out of the bed. Her eyes scan the room, looking for her weapons. _They can’t be far._

There!

She spots them a bit farther away, lying on a table, perfectly out of sight.

Slowly, she gets up.

“Winter?”

She freezes in her movement. “Winter?” The voice asks again, as warm and smooth as honey. She… she remembers that voice. She blinks. _Not important. The mission—the mission comes first._

“Winter, what are you doing out of bed—”

The voice is too close now—too close, too close, too close, she needs to—

The sound of crackling lightning. She whirls around and slams her fist into the moving body, throwing him backwards against a wall. Her hands… she examines them. _Lightning. Good._

When she looks up, she sees the remaining five Avengers in front of her. Some of them have already drawn their weapons. Others, like the smaller boy to her right, have not.

“Winter…” he says slowly. She blinks again. Who is Winter?

“Winter, you need to listen to us.” Another voice says, and she looks his way. A dark man stares at her, unblinking and unmoving. His eyes are filled with fear.

“Winter…” says another voice.

“Winter, please.”

“Winter—”

“Winter…”

“Winter...—”

“Stop it!” She screams, and she lets her energy roll off her, creating a shockwave, running through the room.

All the beds and tables surrounding her get thrown against the walls. The Avengers are pushed on the ground by the force of her power.

They are afraid. Good.

Everyone should fear her.

She clenches her hand into a fist, making the energy crack with power. The sound fills the room.

_“—get rid of the Avengers—”_

 

* * *

 

“Bucky, I need you to get that damn notebook!” Sam heaves through the phone. Another crack, and then the line disconnects. Bucky looks from his phone at Maria perched on the counter, his eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” She asks him, voice gentle and soft.

“Winter…” he whispers, in a daze. “She’s awake.”

“That’s great!” Yells Aryan, jumping off his seat. Sharon shakes her head and stops him from running out the door. “That might not be a good thing. Bucky, tell us what’s wrong.”

“She’s attacking them,” explains Bucky before running out the kitchen. He needs to—

He needs to find the notebook.

 

Once he enters his bedroom, he throws open the drawers of his bedside table. Where’d he put it last time he looked at it?

He rummages through the drawers, throwing every object that he can’t use behind him.

Another drawer. Nothing.

Third drawer. Nothing.

Next. He stands up and grits his teeth, before his eyes land on one of their dressers, standing lonely in a corner.

First drawer. Not there.

He throws the book out of the drawer and roughly opens the second. He comes up with nothing.

“Bucky?” He hears Aryan’s hesitant voice behind him.

He doesn’t answer—simply opens the next drawer. His hand sinks in, pushes around, and…

There.

He takes out his hand and holds up the notebook. The skull glimmers in the light of the lamps.

When he turns, he looks at Aryan. Winter’s brother is staring at the notebook in horror.

If Aryan stops him…

Bucky knows what this will do to her—Aryan is going to lose his last living family member if he uses it. Is that worth it?

He glances at the notebook and clenches his jaw. Is it worth it?

“You should go,” says Aryan softly. He steps aside to let Bucky through and gives him a jerky nod. “Do it.”

“But—”

“Do it, Bucky. It’s the only way.”

Bucky doesn’t mention the tears glimmering in Aryan’s eyes.

When he rounds the corner to the stairs, he roughly wipes away his own. It needs to be done. It’s the only way.

 

* * *

 

The medical bay is completely destroyed. The door hangs off it’s hinges, still sizzling with electricity as Bucky steps through. He hears a groan, and then another table smacks against the wall.

Bucky steps aside before a knife clatters against the spot where he last stood. He clutches the notebook in his trembling hand.

It needs to be done.

It needs to be done.

It needs to be—

Winter stands in the middle of the room, alight with lightning in the way he’s only seen Thor do it.

By her feet lays Levi, unconscious, with a trickle of blood escaping his nose.

Sam sits squatted behind a bed, gun in his hands. Against the wall sit Rhodey and Harley, both with their eyes closed. Bucky’s heart almost stops when he spots Bruce in another corner, heaving.

Helen is sitting behind an operating table, her eyes closed and her hands trembling. Bucky breathes in relief that at least one of his friends is okay.

“Bucky!” Sam then hisses, and Bucky looks back at Winter, who looks around the medical bay with a terrifying smile.

He looks down at the notebook.

 _“It’s the only way.”_ He remembers Aryan’s words.

_“—stop me if it goes wrong.”_

He doesn’t… he doesn’t want to do this.

When he looks up, he breathes out. But he must. He must. Or else… or else she’ll kill them all.

The world needs them. The world needs the Avengers. He can’t let Winter destroy them—no matter how much he loves her.

He blinks. Tears fall on the yellowed and crumpled pages.

 

«семья.»

_Family._

 

«Кровь.»

_Blood._

 

«пламя.»

_Flame._

 

«Восемь.»

_Eight._

 

«Заход солнца.»

_Sunset._

 

«гром.»

_Thunder._

 

«Шесть.»

_Six._

 

«Кухня.»

_Kitchen._

 

«Кинжал.»

_Dagger._

 

«Двенадцать.»

_Twelve._

 

Once he stops speaking the words, her lightning fades away. The energy sizzles and she relaxes just slightly.

“Winter?” Sam asks hopefully. It says silent.

Close to Bucky, Rhodey groans and sluggishly opens his eyes. Winter’s eyes course through the room, before falling on Bucky. He notices the way her eyes are glazed over—like she’s not really there.

Which, in some case, she isn’t. He knows what it’s like to become something else and to feel like you belong to not even yourself—he understands that Winter, right now, is still not herself.

He really, _really_ hates Hydra.

 

“Bucky?” Sam now asks, voice a bit small. Bucky looks at his boyfriend, who gets up and looks around.

Winter pulls something out of her boot—it looks like a dagger.

When Bucky narrows his eyes to look at it, he notices the intricate carvings on it, creating a beautiful pattern of words only Winter can read.

She looks at him and he bites his lip. Behind him, Rhodey struggles to get up, but he doesn’t notice.

“Winter?”

Bucky doesn’t turn, but he knows the others are there too.

When Aryan steps us beside him, he is mildly surprised to notice the boy looks relaxed.

Winter takes a deep breath and brings the dagger up to her throat.

“Winter!” Rhodey says, alarmed. Bucky winces, and lets himself be pushed away by Winter’s soulmate, who rushes through the room to get to his girlfriend.

 

He stops in front of her, and Bucky notices the way her eyes glimmer. She smiles, then—resigned to her fate.

The dagger is still in her hand—with the other, she caresses Rhodey’s cheek.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. Bucky almost chokes on his own tears, and he pretends not to notice Aryan’s sob.

“Please don’t do this,” Rhodey begs. “Please don’t do this, Winter. There’s still so much that I want to do with you—I want to take you out to my favourite restaurant; I want to show you the most beautiful places on earth—”

He sobs and sinks to the floor. Bucky watches as Winter goes down with him, and carefully puts her arms around him.

“Don’t worry,” she says, and then something else that Bucky doesn’t understand.

When she gets up again, her eyes glaze over. She firmly presses the dagger to her throat, and Bucky looks away when she slices through the delicate skin, leaving the blood pouring out. He notices the flashes of white of the dragon on her skin—but Winter made the poison herself, ensuring no possible way out. Bucky catches himself wishing it fails.

She stumbles and falls to the ground—Rhodey catches her in time, carefully placing her so that he can hold her and put his head on her chest.

“Is she…” he can hear Sharon ask hesitantly. Bucky puts his hand over his mouth to silence himself, and barely registers himself sinking to the floor and bowing his head, letting the tears drop on the floor.

 

Winter breathes her last stuttering breaths in her soulmate’s arms, surrounded by her family.

 _Freedom,_ she thinks. _I am finally free._

 

* * *

 

**Mongolia**

“Are you nervous?” Maria asks as they put on their coms. “Absolutely not,” answers Sharon. She looks around the quinjet—Levi in the cockpit, Oliver and Harley on their seats, Macy and Wanda on the floor, both couples discussing their mission, and T’Challa by the far end of the quinjet, closest to the exit, talking to general Okoye of the Dora Milaje.

It’s been two weeks since…

Well, since Winter’s death.

Understandably, Aryan, Rhodey and Bucky are emotionally compromised. Sam and Constance are left to deal with the political aftermath of the loss of an Avenger and Winter’s funeral while the rest of the Avengers are flown over to Mongolia to complete their last mission involving Hydra’s bunkers.

Sharon sighs. Winter’s death is hard on all of them. To her, it feels like she lost a sister, and a very dear friend. Her death makes Sharon a bit emptier inside—but, on the other hand, she was a SHIELD agent and she’s been ready for death ever since she started training for it. She doesn’t like it, and she can admit that she’d shed her tears, but in their line of bussiness, there’s a time for mourning and there’s a time for acting.

Sadly, their time for acting will stretch on for another twenty years.

She just hopes Winter’s found her peace, with or without her family. The girl deserves that at least.

Aryan and Rhodey are taking it a lot harder. Especially Rhodey, if Sharon thinks about it. He’s just found his soulmate and now…

She sighs again.

The world is a nasty place. Saying goodbye is almost too difficult, even after all the goodbyes they had to say.

Tony, Natasha, Winter…

And then Steve and Bruce, unable to fight.

One day, she thinks. One day it’s going to be okay. And they’ll be reunited.

 

* * *

 

The mission isn’t particularly hard. Their last base doesn’t cover much ground, and Sharon breathes out in relief when she doesn’t discover any thin shafts they need to climb through to get down into the earth for more Hydra secrets.

For the first time in years, Sharon leads the mission on her own.

With only Harley in the air, they have to split up in order to cover their ground securely. T’Challa takes Levi, Oliver and Maria and Sharon takes Harley, Wanda, Macy and Okoye. The general of the Dora Milaje proves to be an excellent combat fighter—even though Sharon’s not exactly surprised; she’s heard enough stories of both Bucky and Steve.

 

When they stumble upon rooms with bodies, Sharon is— _again_ —not surprised. She covers her mouth and nose with a thick shawl and steps into one of the rooms, while Okoye and Wanda take the others.

It’s dark inside, and a bit too hot, but Sharon manages to stumble and step over the lifeless bodies.

The chances are slim that any of them are alive, but she wants to check anyways.

Once she reaches the end of the room in the darkness, she hears a soft grunt. Then, she sees something move in the corner of her eye.

“Who’s there?” She asks, and in the light of her flashlight, a small boy steps forward. He looks frightened, and his lips are blue. Of the cold, Sharon doesn’t know. She smiles nonetheless at him. “Can you tell me your name?”

With a quivering lip, he says, “Jason, miss.”

“Alright Jason. How are you feeling?”

Sharon doesn’t really know what Winter would’ve wanted—she knows that Winter killed all the other children that were alive, but she also knows that is only because they had failed, and they would’ve died sooner or later while experiencing a lot of pain.

But she doesn’t want to kill him without knowing if he has a future.

 

Once she steps outside, she notices Wanda leads another child outside of her room by her hand—a girl this time.

Wanda meets her eye and nods. “Where are you going to take us?” The girl asks, her voice surprisingly steady and calm. Wanda smiles at her.

“Home.”

 

* * *

 

**Avengers Mansion**

It’s raining. Two figures stand straight and tense in front of the white marble stone, with letters engraved on it.

Rhodey blinks. He doesn’t wipe his tears away, even though, distantly, he wants to.

Aryan, next to him, clasps Winter’s medallion in his hand. They don’t speak for a long time.

Eventually, Aryan says, “She would have wanted this.”

Rhodey doesn’t look at him, but he already knows what look Aryan must be carrying. It’s one he’s seen too much now.

Bucky’s been walking around like a ghost lately—Aryan has the right to be sad. They all have. Maybe, Rhodey thinks, maybe this was how it was meant to be.

She can finally rest now—like she’s always wanted. Immortality weighed too heavy on her; never truly alive, but unable to die either. It strained her in too many ways. Everyone knows that. She’s free, now, like Nat and Tony are. He hopes she can join them somewhere up there, their souls resting forever.

She would probably smile right now, at them. He can almost hear Tony’s laugh. “You worry too much Platypus,” his long-time best friend whispers in his ear. Rhodey blinks again.

He doesn’t really want to be sad about it. He is—he really, really is; especially because she’s his soulmate of all things—but there’s also this bigger part of him that reassures his heart that it’s okay. That she’s free now. That she gets to love and do as she pleases.

He can only hope that someday he will join her.

Aryan’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “She loved you.”

Rhodey blinks again, and the tears seem to come even faster now. There’s this hole in his heart that he knows can never be filled, but he will wear it with dignity.

“She may not have said it, but she did.”

A beat of silence.

Then, “She’s resting now.” Rhodey turns now, looking at Aryan. Still so young and yet so old. The boy smiles at him, soft and full of pain. “I think she deserves that.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey agrees, his throat throbbing as he lets the word slip out. “Do you think she can see us?” It’s a strange, hopeful question. Rhodey’s an adult—he should know better. The thing is, he doesn’t really want to.

“I would like it if she can,” answers Aryan gently, raising his hand to let it rest on Rhodey’s shoulder.

Rhodey nods and presses his lips together, staring at the gravestone and the fresh flowers on her grave.

Inside the Mansion are the others waiting for them—with Loki and Thor and T’Challa and the Guardians. Family.

Yes, Rhodey thinks. Winter would have wanted it this way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for sticking with me till the end! 
> 
> I'm not super pleased with this in general, but this is what we're rolling with, everyone!
> 
> CHARACTER FILES CAN BE FOUND IF YOU CLICK ON THE LINK FOR THE 'IMMORTALS' SERIES
> 
> I hope you liked it
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day xD


End file.
